The Amends Series
by Tonya
Summary: ***FINAL CHAPTER ADDED*** With the Angel Investigations team functioning as one again, the search for Connor gets closer than ever.
1. Default Chapter

Series Title: The Amends Series

First Chapter: The Quest for Amends

Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: My birth certificate reads neither Joss Whedon nor Mutant Enemy so I'm gonna have to say I don't own the characters in any way.

Spoilers: All of Season 3 AtS.

Distribution: Feel free. Just tell me where.

Summary: A paranormal case brings friends-turned-enemies together.

Author's Note: This is a follow-up to "Keep Your Friends Close." (Which means it's still AU—Connor is still missing and "Tomorrow" never happened, except for Lilah/Wes sex.) And big BIG thanks to Kel—for being the world's best beta!!

**********

Wesley sat at his kitchen table, staring at the calculator and checkbook that lay out before him. He had never been so depressed by the sight of a bunch of numbers in his life.

Income had been scarce ever since he parted ways with Angel Investigations. Not that the income had ever been great, but at least he had been able to live off of it. He had sold a few journal entries on demon languages, but those had only gotten him so far. He had to pay rent. He had to eat. He had to live….

"You can keep staring, but it's not gonna change," Faith teased as she stepped into the kitchen, munching on an apple. She sat down across from him as a smile formed at the corners of his lips. 

"Ever get the feeling that the world hates you?" he asked.

Faith nodded, grinning, "Every damn day."

Wesley sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Wolfram and Hart doesn't sound too bad right about now," he smiled ruefully.

"Tell me about it. Think they'd hire a rogue Slayer?"

Wesley shook his head at her, chuckling quietly.

"Seriously," Faith replied, munching at her apple. "Think they would?"

Wesley raised an eyebrow at the girl, and she laughed back.

"I need to find something fairly soon…." he sighed.

"Why not just get paid to do something you're good at?" 

"Like what?" Wesley frowned.

"Hello? What the hell were you doing before you hit the unemployment line?" 

"That was different," Wesley replied, his frown only deepening. "We were… we were a team."

"It doesn't have to be different. I mean, we could be a team. You're the brains. I'm the muscle. It's so perfect, it's scary."

"No, Faith, it's just scary," Wesley smiled crookedly.

"I'm just sayin'. We'd bring in tons of money…."

Wesley raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, and help people too," she added quickly with a grin. "Priorities, you know."

"Faith…." Wesley sighed, sitting back in his chair.

"Look, we can make some fliers. Post them in places where they'll reach the people we're looking for…."

"Faith, we don't even have an office."

"Who says you have to have an office?" Faith said, finishing off her apple. "We'll put a phone number on the flier, and when they call, we can just set up a meeting. Why make things more difficult than they have to be?"

Wesley couldn't hide the look of amused astonishment on his face. "When did you become the polished entrepreneur?"

"About the time when I realized I was *_this close*_ to donning a paper hat and a spatula," Faith smirked. "Give me some demon blood and guts any day, but I don't do the Doublemeat Palace."

"I suppose we all have our limits."

"So, what do ya say? Will I be spending the rest of my young life asking, 'Do you want fries with that?' or are we going to form our own little demon-slaying agency?"

"The Wyndham-Pryce Agency does have a certain ring to it, doesn't it?" Wesley smiled.

"Yeah, if you're interested in having a stuffy British guy bore the demon the death," Faith scoffed. 

"I beg your pardon," he replied, slightly offended. "You have a better idea?"

"Hell yeah I do," Faith said, getting up to toss her apple core into the trash. "Look, I'll handle the name. You just get on that little laptop of yours and start making us some fliers."

"And now you're ordering me around?" he chuckled.

"Well, somebody has to kick your ass into gear." She smiled, punching his arm lightly as she walked out of the kitchen.

Alone, Wesley laughed quietly to himself before turning his gaze back to his checkbook. With a determined nod, he closed it. Gathering his calculator and checkbook, he started off towards his bedroom to grab his laptop.

*********

Faith sat at the kitchen table, staring intently at the portable phone that lay before her. She frowned and tapped her finger on the table, frustrated.

It had been three days since Wesley had printed up the fliers and they had distributed them around the city. Three days and no responses. Faith wasn't sure how much more she could take. She was getting antsy. She needed a good fight, anything to get rid of her overwhelming pent-up energy. And staring at a non-ringing phone was not cutting it.

"Are you expecting it to do a trick?" Wesley teased as he strolled towards the refrigerator.

"Funny," she mumbled, her eyes never leaving the phone.

"Ever hear the expression the watched pot never boils?"

"Ever hear the expression don't tease a Slayer?" she grumbled, raising an irritated eyebrow at him.

Wesley retrieved a bottled water from the fridge and shut the door. He leaned against the door, sipping from the bottle. Before he could respond to Faith's threat, the phone rang.

Faith gave him an I-told-you-so look as she reached for it.

"Rogue Investigations," she said. "You summon 'em. We slay 'em."

Wesley rolled his eyes. "I must change that motto immediately."

Grabbing her notepad off the table, Faith scribbled feverishly as she spoke with their first potential client.

"Sure, we hear this kind of crap all the time," she said, writing. "No, we really don't have an office but maybe there's somewhere else you'd like to meet…. Uh-huh…. 310 West Magnolia…. Apartment 12…. Okay, we'll be there in twenty minutes or so."

Faith hung up the phone, a triumphant smile on her face. Grabbing her notepad, she approached Wesley and nudged him gently with the edge of the notepad.

"We got a case. Girl cast a spell, and accidentally released something."

"Something?"

Faith shrugged, dismissing his inquiry with a wave of her hand. "She doesn't know what exactly. Look, we're wasting valuable money-making time. So, let's go meet her so you can figure out what the hell she raised, and then I can go kick its demon ass."

"Eager much?"

"Wesley," Faith replied, grabbing the front of his T-shirt in her hand. "If I don't get some action soon, well—let's just say that I get quite explosive."

Wesley swallowed hard in response.

Faith released his shirt from her grip, smoothing it down his chest before walking away from him. As she crossed the kitchen threshold, she called over her shoulder, "Are you coming or what?"

Wesley cleared his throat before starting after her, bottled water in hand


	2. The Quest for Amends-- Chapter 2

"It was supposed to be an easy spell." Sara Douglas sighed as she handed the spellbook to Wesley.

Standing in the woman's living room, Faith at his side, Wesley took the book from her hands and flipped to the dog-eared page.

Faith, crossing her arms over her chest, asked the petite blonde, "A spell for what?" 

Sara blushed slightly, shoving her hands deep into her jeans pockets. "On my ex-boyfriend."

"A love spell?"

"Not really."

"A you-broke-my-heart-so-now-I'll-break-your-ass kind of spell?"

Sara simply nodded, her skin reddening more.

"A spell for the heartbroken," Wesley replied, scanning the text. "To cause the person physical pain to match the spellcaster's emotional grief." He looked up at the girl, curious. "What makes you think you may have released something?"

"I said the last chant, and the last thing I remember is a bright flash of light," Sara explained. "Next thing I know, I wake up and my bedroom is completely trashed. I went back to the occult shop, hoping they would be able to help me, and that's when I saw your flier in the shop window." She paused, a nervous smile on her face. "So… what do you think?"

"Well, there are many things it could have been," Wesley replied, closing the book. "You may have channeled a lot of mystical energy with your spell, which could have manifested itself in the end. The bright flash could have physically disturbed your room. Or the flash could have simply been a side effect from the spell itself. Sort of a cosmic consequence. Neither of those would be anything to truly worry about…."

"I feel a but coming," Sara replied, scrunching up her nose.

"But you could have accidentally summoned something."

"How likely?"

"It all depends. Any slight mispronunciation could change the entire meaning of a word, and thus the spell itself. What I'll need to do is analyze your spell, translate it in various ways and see where it leads."

"And then?"

"And then if you did accidentally dial up a Big Bad," Faith chimed in, "we'll kill it."

Wesley nodded in agreement. "Something along those lines anyway," he replied, giving Faith a look.

Faith shrugged, mouthing, "What?"

Wesley turned back to Sara. "We'll be in touch with you as soon as we find something out."

"May want to lay off the jerk boyfriend spells until we do," Faith added.

Sara smiled sheepishly, nodding. Wesley and Faith acknowledged the girl one last time before walking out of her apartment.

**********

Sitting at her desk, flipping through a journal on portals and dimensions, Cordelia could feel someone's gaze on her. She glanced up to see Gunn sitting at the hotel counter, pretending to read a Sports Illustrated. With a roll of her eyes, she returned her attention back to the journal.

After a moment of silence between them, Cordelia finally spoke. Her eyes never left the journal as she said, "Gunn, what do you want?"

"Nothing," he replied innocently.

Cordelia looked up at him, sighing. "You know, you're getting about as bad as your girlfriend."

Gunn closed his magazine and laid it on the hotel counter. "Any visions lately?"

"No. You know that."

Gunn nodded, waited a moment. "How about now?"

"Gunn!" Cordelia sighed. "What is the deal?"

"I need to do something. _We_ need to do something. This place has been so… down lately."

"Yeah." Cordelia frowned. "That tends to happen when your best friend's son has been kidnapped by your other former best friend."

"I just need something to get my mind off of the hell our lives have become recently," Gunn sighed, frustrated.

"And a vision would make it better how?"

"Because then we could go out, kick some butt, and save someone's day. We would get out of this hotel. We'd be doing something besides what we're doing now—sitting around, feeling helpless because we can't get Connor back."

Cordelia nodded, understanding completely. She had been thinking about that herself. The other day she had found herself wishing that someone would come strolling through the hotel door, asking for their assistance. At this point, she would take going out and nearly getting killed by a couple of demons to another night in the hotel. At least then, she wouldn't feel helpless, like she couldn't do her job. 

Sitting in the hotel, researching day in and day out on hell dimensions, Cordelia felt like the whole world was resting on her shoulders. She had been gone when everything had turned chaotic, and she felt responsible. She needed to, wanted to, find Connor just as badly as Angel, because she owed it to the child. She had abandoned them in their time of need, and she owed it to all of them. She just wasn't sure how many more depressing nights at the hotel she could take.

"So, no visions at all, huh?" Gunn repeated with a deep sigh. "Not even a glimpse?"

"Gunn, you will be the first to know when I do," she promised.

Gunn nodded. "You feel like Chinese?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

He stood, making his way around the counter. "Tell Fred I went out to grab dinner if she asks."

"Can do," Cordelia replied, returning her attention to the journal.

**********

Wesley sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by books. He scribbled in the notebook on his right. To his far left, a stack of reference texts were balanced on each other, and next to the stack was Sara's spellbook, open to the spell she had attempted to cast.

"Amateurs," he muttered under his breath as he continued to search the spell for words that could have been easily mispronounced.

"Here's the other journal you were looking for," Faith said, placing a thick tome on the large stack. "So, how's it going?"

Wesley sighed, lifting up his glasses and gently rubbing his eyes. "This is going to take all night."

"That shitty, huh?" she asked, sitting down across from him.

"Faith, shitty doesn't even begin to cover it," he sighed, sitting back in his chair. "The spell itself is fairly straight-forward. The catch is that it's in Latin."

"And that language is deader than dead."

Wesley shook his head, removing his glasses and tossing them upon the table. "I've been trying to pick out all the key words for three hours now. I haven't even had a chance to narrow the damn list down and try to find the multiple pronunciations and definitions of each." He rubbed his hand down his face as he complained, "And I've been staring at this stupid text for so long that the words are starting to run together."

Faith frowned slightly, reaching across the table for his notebook. "These the words?" she asked.

Wesley simply nodded before clasping his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he let his neck relax and his head fall back.

He sat in silence, listening to the sound of Faith shifting her weight in the chair and mumbling horrible Latin under her breath. He smirked slightly as he heard her utter a deep sigh. She knew nothing about the Latin language yet she was trying to help, to find some missing link that Wesley had not had a chance to find. Maybe they were a team after all.

He was snapped from his thoughts by her last mumble….

"What did you just say?" he asked, looking up at her.

"What?" she asked, taken aback by his interruption.

"You just said a word. What was it?"

She glanced at the paper before returning her eyes to him. "De-_mens_? Pronounced like demons but not, I guess?"

Wesley chuckled quietly as he retrieved the notebook from her hands. "I've been looking at this for so long that I completely overlooked that."

"So I take it that's a good thing?"

"Yes, quite," Wesley replied, tossing his glasses to the side as scribbled in his notebook. "It's actually pronounced dêmens. Pronounced correctly it means mad or insane…."

"And if you screw it up?"

"Like you said, demons. Or technically, daemon," he explained, returning his gaze to the spellbook. "It means evil spirit or devil in Latin."

Faith simply watched him, a slight smile of amusement on her face as the pieces began to fall together for him.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the book. "Sara did summon something. A demonical manifestation of her grief and pain."

"So, screwing up one little word turns her spell from boils-on-his-penis to evil-rampaging-grief-demon?"

"To put it rather bluntly, yes."

"So, we know what we're dealing with now," Faith replied, eagerly getting to her feet. "Let's go find it and kill it."

"I wish it were that easy, Faith, but it's not." He frowned as he looked up at her. "Now that we know exactly what we're dealing with, I need to analyze the spell to see which demon of grief and pain she summoned."

"Maybe I should call Sara and tell her what's the what," Faith suggested. "A demon is still a demon."

Wesley nodded in agreement as Faith made her way to the portable phone, which hung on its base by the kitchen door. Faith leaned in the doorway as she listened to the phone ring over and over again. She gave a worried glance at Wesley as the answering machine picked up.

"Um, Sara, this is Faith. Rogue Investigations? Listen—we checked out your spell, and we're pretty sure that you summoned something. Just to be safe you may want to crash at a friend's place tonight. We'll talk to you tomorrow, I guess."

Faith hung up the phone as Wesley got to his feet. Faith turned to him, shrugging.

"Maybe we should go check on her," she suggested.

Wesley hesitated a moment before agreeing. "Go get the weapons."

Faith's eyes brightened as she grinned. "I call dibs on the broadsword."

**********

"Have you seen Gunn?" Fred asked, entering the office.

Cordelia closed the journal as she looked up at the girl. "He left not too long ago. Getting Chinese for dinner."

"He read my mind," Fred grinned. Glancing down at the book, she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Just reading up on portals…again." Cordelia frowned.

"Cordy, you should really take a break from that. Just for a second."

"I'm not allowed to take a break from it, Fred. I have to find some way to get Connor back."

"And _we_ will," Fred offered with a gentle smile. "But beating yourself up everyday because you can't find the answer isn't going to help. We'll find the answers. We always do."

Cordelia laughed quietly, an appreciative smile on her face. "Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am," Fred grinned.

Cordelia was about to respond when she felt herself slipping away from reality.

She could see Fred give her a concerned look and call her name, but she could not hear her voice. She watched the girl's mouth move in silence as the hotel seemed to shift before her eyes. Cordelia blinked tightly, trying to keep the world from swirling around her. 

When Cordelia opened her eyes, Fred no longer stood in front of her and the hotel had been transformed into a small apartment. Standing at the threshold of the bedroom, Cordelia could see a blonde girl being attacked by a demon. She tried to go to the girl, to help her, but found herself blocked by an invisible barrier in the doorway. Cordelia pounded against the invisible wall, yelling for the demon to leave the girl alone. Her voice seemed to echo throughout the entirety of the apartment, but neither the demon nor the girl looked up to acknowledge her.

The black scaly creature continued to hover over his victim. The girl was sprawled across the carpet, pleading for mercy. The demon took its huge talons and slashed at the girl's tender abdomen, drawing blood instantly. The girl began to howl in pain, the smell of her metallic blood tingling Cordelia's nose, as she found herself pulled from the vision.

When she returned, Fred was kneeling beside her, anxiety etched across her face. 

"Vision?"

"Girl being attacked by a demon. We better move quick," Cordelia said, getting to her feet. Fred stood as she continued, "I'll go tell Angel. You page Gunn."

Fred nodded, running for the office phone, as Cordelia quickly made her way downstairs, where Angel was working out.


	3. The Quest for Amends-- Chapter 3

***Thanks to everyone giving me feedback! You all just keep feeding my addiction to the stuff!!!***

*********

"Sara!" Wesley yelled as he pounded on her apartment door. "Sara, it's Wesley and Faith! Sara?"

He tried the doorknob but found it securely locked. Wesley took a step back with a sigh. His crossbow in hand, he studied the door for a moment before turning to Faith. "You mind doing the honors?"

"With pleasure." She stepped up to the door, and with one firm kick, she knocked the door open, nearly ripping it from its hinges.

"Sara?" Wesley called out again as they entered the apartment. "Sara, are you here?"

"I'll check the bedroom." 

Wesley nodded as Faith proceeded down the hallway, her sword held high and ready to swing at any moment.

Before she even reached the threshold, Faith could smell it. It was faint, but her Slayer senses could have picked it up from a mile away. The smell of human blood.

She stood in the doorway, surveying the room. The nightstand beside Sara's queen-sized bed had been turned over. The glass lamp that had apparently been sitting upon it lay in jagged shards upon the carpet. The window on the other side of her bed was shattered, more glass littering the carpet. 

A pool of blood stained the beige carpet at the foot of the bed.

Faith finally entered the bedroom, lowering her sword only slightly. "Wesley, we have a problem," she called over her shoulder.

She made her way towards the window, stepping over the fresh stain, and glanced out at the fire escape.

Within moments, Wesley was in the room. Noticing the blood on the carpet, he muttered, "We're too late."

"Maybe not," she replied, stepping away from the window. She glanced down at the bottom of the sill, noting the blood splattered across the white wood. "It took her."

Walking up beside her and carefully leaning out the window, he said, "Now the question is where."

"You're the detective here," Faith replied quietly, distracted. She glanced over her shoulder, back at the doorway, as Wesley began to search the bedroom for any kind of clues.

Faith glanced over at him before quietly walking out of the bedroom, her sword arm tensing up again. She slowly walked down the hallway, listening intently.

She entered the living room, scanning it quickly and finding it empty. Silence filled the air as Faith glanced towards the kitchen. She walked over, checking it as well. Satisfied that she and Wesley were alone in the apartment, she turned to make her way back down the hallway.

Before she was out of the living room, she was grabbed roughly from behind, an arm wrapped tightly around her neck. Faith struggled slightly, never releasing her grip on the sword. Grabbing a secure hold of the man's arm with her free hand, Faith ran up the wall, flipping herself over and out of her assailant's grasp. Her momentum sent her attacker falling to the floor with a groan. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Faith had the point of her sword resting on the man's jugular.

Wesley ran into the living room, calling out to her. At the same time, Cordelia and Fred charged into the apartment through the broken door, each armed. Angel lingered in the doorway, held back by an invisible barrier.

Faith looked from Wesley to the gang gathered at the door and to the man splayed at her feet. "One of yours, I take it," she frowned as she glanced back up at Angel.

"Gunn, are you okay?" Fred asked, her hands tightly wrapped around the base of an axe.

"I will be as soon as someone gets the metal out of my throat." 

"It's not smart to sneak up on a Slayer," she replied, backing away from Gunn.

Gunn quickly got to his feet and joined his friends. He gingerly touched his throat, checking to see if he was bleeding.

Faith at his side, Wesley looked towards Cordelia as he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I had a vision. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Our job," Faith replied. 

"Your job?" Fred asked, frowning at her.

"Sara is our client," she explained. "We'll find her, and we'll save her. This is our territory so why don't you just take your little quasi-Scooby gang and leave."

Insulted, Cordelia took a threatening step towards Faith as she replied, "Maybe you forgot whose town you're in now, Faith. This isn't Sunnydale."

Faith took a step towards Cordelia as well. "And maybe you forgot who I am."

"And maybe we should just all calm the hell down," Gunn said, stepping up to the women. "We're both here to find out what happened to this girl."

"Gunn's right. We all have the same reasons to be here," Wesley agreed, stepping beside Faith.

Gunn shot Wesley a look of disdain. "Yeah, well, who asked you…?" He stopped as he realized what Wesley had actually said. "Oh…never mind."

Everyone fell silent. Cordelia and Faith continued to stare each other down, neither wanting the other to be the victor of their standoff. Angel glared at Wesley, and Wesley held the stare in return, never flinching. 

Neither man had uttered a word to each other since they had set foot in the same room, but their expressions said everything that needed to be said. The hate that radiated between them was quite clear. 

Even with his arm relaxed at his side, Wesley's grip tightened on the trigger of his crossbow as his subconscious mentally prepared for the vampire to lunge at him. However, Angel remained firmly stationed in the doorway. His arms were folded over his chest, his sword held high and resting against his left shoulder.

Fred stepped up closer to Gunn, her axe arm relaxing slightly, as she broke the silence. "Look, I'm sorry to interrupt this horrible tension-building moment, but does anyone else remember that there is a girl out there who may or may not be getting devoured by a demon right now?"

Wesley finally turned his eyes from Angel's, grabbing Faith's arm and gently pulling her back from Cordelia. Gunn took hold of Cordelia's elbow, doing the same.

Fred nodded in appreciation. "So can we all officially put our egos and issues aside in order to save this girl?"

"We have to find her first," Faith said.

"I have a question," Gunn said, raising a finger. "I know how we knew to come here—vision-girl and all—but how the hell did you two know?"

"Sara hired us to investigate the possible summoning of a demon through a spell she had cast," Wesley replied. "We came over to check on her when she didn't answer our call."

"And that's about the time buddy here tried to get frisky with me," Faith smirked, eyeing Gunn.

"No one was trying to get frisky with you," Fred spoke up from Gunn's side, her grip tightening on the handle of her axe.

Faith picked up on the vibe from Fred and countered, "Well, if your boyfriend hadn't attacked me—"

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" Gunn asked. "Busted down door, suspicious girl creeping around an apartment with a sword?"

"How about—she doesn't look like a demon?" Faith replied.

As Fred, Faith, and Gunn's bickering became louder, Cordelia yelled, "Would everyone just shut up?! Shut up!" She gave an exasperated sigh as everyone fell silent again, giving her their full attention. "Look, we're wasting time. We need to find this girl before she dies."

"Cordelia's right," Wesley agreed with a nod, his gaze meeting Angel's again. 

Even with all the commotion, he had not moved a single muscle. A statue of unbridled hatred, his eyes simply watched Wesley's every movement. Wesley could almost read the raging thoughts behind the man's eyes. The predator in him wanted to attack, to rip flesh from bones, but he simply stood and watched, his eyes unblinking. 

Thank God he was never invited in, Wesley thought.

He found himself wondering how things would change if the invisible barrier wasn't there to hold Angel back. He wondered how much will it would take for Angel not to leap across the length between them and snap his neck. And he wondered if he, himself, would put up a fight, or if he would let the vampire just end it all right there….

"We don't have time for this right now," he continued, turning to Faith. "Faith, you'll go with Gunn and Angel to track down the demon and…."

"Hold up!" Gunn barked, raising his hand to stop Wesley. "Have you forgotten that you're not the boss anymore?"

"Gunn," Fred tried to shush him.

"No," Gunn replied, crossing his arms over his chest, his glare burning into Wesley. "I don't take orders from traitors."

Angel finally spoke. "Gunn," he said firmly. "You and I will go track the demon." His eyes turned from Gunn to Faith as he added, "And Faith will go with us. The rest of you will go back to the hotel and figure out exactly what we're dealing with here."

Gunn simply nodded in agreement.

"We're working against the clock here, people," Cordelia said. "The longer we wait, the closer this girl gets to death."

"Agreed," Wesley said. "Let's move." He gave a soft smile to Faith, who returned the gesture, before walking out of the apartment with Cordelia and Fred.

Once they were gone, Faith turned to Gunn and Angel with a grin. "Well, I'm game. How about you guys?"

Gunn and Angel simply looked at each other.


	4. The Quest for Amends-- Chapter 4

As Wesley sat in his former office, he silently wondered if it had always been this big, this empty, this cold. He had sat at this desk many times before, and it had felt right. It had felt like his place to be. But now, as he tapped a finger upon the polished wood, he felt like a little boy dressing up in his father's oversized clothing.

The warmth of the place was gone. He could feel the temperature dropping with each glance Cordelia or Fred shot in his direction. Each look told him the same thing—he didn't belong there. He didn't belong in the hotel. He didn't belong behind that desk.

They had welcomed him back long enough to save this girl, their common goal. But as soon as it was over, the door would be shut again. They would live their lives, and he would live his new life with Faith. And he knew that it would be for the better that way….

"Find anything yet?" Cordelia asked as she entered the office, a large journal in her hands.

"No, I'm…I'm still trying to deduct exactly what type of demon Sara summoned. Your rendering of the creature from your vision has narrowed the search a little," Wesley said, glancing at Cordelia's pencil drawing in front of him.

Cordelia simply nodded, sitting across from him and opening her book. Wesley returned to his search as she glanced up at him, clearing her throat uncomfortably. He glanced at her over the rim of his glasses, but her gaze had already returned to the open text in her lap.

They sat in silence for a moment, both pretending to research. 

Neither knew what to say. Their last encounter had been anything but pleasant, and Wesley wasn't quite sure where exactly they stood.

They were acting civil towards each now because they were working towards a common goal, trying to save a girl's life. But if they hadn't been? If they had simply passed each other on the street? Would they even acknowledge each other as the friends they had once been, or would they just keep walking?

Cordelia finally broke the silence. "So, Faith's your partner now?" she asked, her gaze never leaving the text in her lap.

Wesley looked up at her. "Yes."

Continuing to flip through her book, she continued, "Hopefully not in the Biblical sense…."

Offended, he said firmly, "Even if that were true, that would be none of your business, Cordelia."

Cordelia shrugged nonchalantly. "I was just curious."

"Yes, well, maybe you should focus your curiosity on the demon we're trying to find," he snapped.

Cordelia sat forward in her chair, closing the book in her lap. "Yeah, and maybe you should…."

Fred cleared her throat from the doorway, bringing the two from their spat. She shot each of them a disapproving glare, her book held tightly to her chest.

Under her stare, Wesley returned his gaze to his book.

In response, Cordelia gathered her book and started out of the room. "Maybe I should go work at my own desk. Less distractions."

"Yeah," Fred replied quietly as Cordelia strode past her.

Fred lingered silently in the doorway, watching Wesley. 

She hadn't seen him since that day in the hospital when she had told him to never show his face in the hotel again, for his own safety. 

How ironic then, that he's sitting at Angel's desk, she thought.

When she had attempted to return his journals to him at his apartment, she had been filled with a need to see him, a need to talk to him. Now, as she hovered in the doorway, her eyes taking him in for the very first time in months, she wasn't sure what she felt anymore….

Wesley finally turned his gaze up to her. "May I help you, Fred?"

Fred hesitated for a moment, gently biting her lower lip. "Not anymore." She frowned, turned on her heels, and returned to her spot on the ottoman in the center of the lobby.

Finding himself alone again, Wesley sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hoped that Faith was having an easier time than he was.

**********

Angel wasn't sure how long they had been tracking the scent of the girl's blood. Even without a physical trail to follow, it was still easy for him to track her. A gift perfected many years ago when he had been a predator of Europe, when he would track his prey for miles. The scent of blood had become his internal compass, always leading him in the right direction. Travelers had only to look for the North Star simply to find their way. For him, it was the metallic scent of a fresh kill….

Being a demon had very few good points, but as a detective, his uncanny ability to find people with simply the faintest scent proved helpful on cases such as this.

"So, you're a Slayer, huh?" Gunn said from his left, breaking Angel's concentration slightly.

"Yeah," Faith answered.

"And we haven't seen you until now because?"

"Because I was in jail."

"What did you do?" Gunn replied, laughing softly. "Beat up a Girl Scout?"

"I killed two men," she said gruffly.

There was a moment of silence before Gunn said, "Oh."

Angel shushed them as they continued down the sidewalk. He pulled ahead of them slightly, hoping that the distance between them would help his concentration on the task at hand.

His mind, however, had other plans as he found himself thinking about the volatile Slayer just behind him. And for a moment, he felt a pang of remorse.

He flashed back to his last conversation with Cordelia in regards to the girl, in regards to Wesley and his mission to save her from Wolfram and Hart.

Ask me if I care, he had said. Those words were still clear in his mind. Ask me if I care….

He should have cared, if not for Wesley, at least for her. She was an innocent. She had been locked away when his former friend and co-worker had destroyed his world. She was as innocent as any of the others. She didn't deserve his rage, his scorn.

"Man, I hope Wes comes through with some news soon," he heard Faith sigh.

Angel stopped the growl that formed in the back of his throat at the mention of Wesley's name. He swallowed down the last of his remorse with a confident nod of his head. Apparently, the big plan—whatever it had been—had worked out in Wesley's favor. He wouldn't have been walking alongside Faith if it hadn't. She had survived whatever Wolfram and Hart had done to her and had escaped with her spunk and energy still in intact. He didn't need to feel sorry. He didn't want to feel sorry.

He put further distance between himself and them as he faintly heard Gunn grumble, "Yeah, he better."

Faith stopped in her tracks. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Gunn stopped as well, turning to her. "That means that he owes us. It's his fault our lives have been shot to hell. If he hadn't been such a selfish asshole…."

In a flash, Faith was in Gunn's face. The front of his shirt balled up tightly in her free hand, she gave him a hard jerk towards her. "Look, I'll be the first to admit that everything must be really shitty for you guys, but maybe it's time you learned some forgiveness."

"You know nothing about forgiveness," Gunn growled, unfazed by her sudden aggression.

"Apparently, I know more than you," Faith replied, releasing Gunn's shirt but never taking a step out of his personal space. "And so does Wesley."

With that, she quickly started after Angel, who had put quite a distance between himself and them.

"Asshole," she mumbled under her breath as she caught up with Angel.

People only had a few seconds to make a good first impression on her, to seal their fate as either her ally or her enemy, and Gunn had just set his in stone. Not only did the dumbass attack her when she was trying to do her damn job, but then he had the nerve, the balls, to have this holier-than-thou attitude.

Everyone makes mistakes, she thought to herself. And yeah, some mistakes are larger than others. 

But the fact still remained that everyone made them, and Faith was pretty certain that that jerk had made a few of his own in his lifetime. 

__

You know nothing about forgiveness.

She wouldn't have been standing there if she didn't know about forgiveness. Angel had taught her how to apologize, how to make amends, and through his actions, Wesley had taught her how to forgive and how to be forgiven.

Everyone makes mistakes, she thought again angrily. And everyone needs to be forgiven sometimes. 

****

**********

"Vilskitoff!" Wesley exclaimed from the office, jumping to his feet.

"Bless you," Fred called from her spot on the ottoman.

"No," he explained as he stepped out of the office, the open journal balanced in his hands. "No, that's the name of our demon. A Vilskitoff."

"A what?" Cordelia asked, approaching him.

"It's a demon of rage and grief." He closed the journal as he continued, "It can be called through a spell like the one Sara cast. Once summoned, its main goal is to cause pain and destruction to all those who hurt the caster."

"Then why would it attack Sara?" Fred asked, confused.

"A Vilskitoff demon only feels mercy for the one who summons it."

"Meaning what exactly?" Cordelia asked.

"Meaning… meaning it would kill her to put her out of what it perceived to be her misery."

"Well," Cordelia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest, "that's a crappy little loophole in the spell, ain't it?"

"So, if this Vilskitoff thing goes after what causes the person grief…?" Fred began.

"The boyfriend," they all said in unison.

**********

Gunn removed his ringing cell phone from the inner pocket of his dark denim jacket. "Gunn," he answered.

"It's me," Fred's voice replied.

Gunn smiled slightly at the sound of her voice. "I hope you have good news, babe."

"It's good… in a bad kind of way." She frowned, pulling nervously on a strand of her hair. "The thing you're tracking is called a… a Vilskitoff."

"A who in the what?"

"It's a kind of grief demon," she explained. "Wesley says it's big on pain and suffering. We think it may be leading you to Sara's boyfriend."

"Why would it do that?"

"This is just a guess, but I'm going to say so that it can rip every limb from his body."

"Oh, kinda sorry I asked now."

"Where are you guys?"

Gunn glanced up and down the street, looking for any kind of marker that would tell him exactly where they were. Unfortunately, all that lay ahead of him were the same type of two-story homes that lay behind him.

"I have no damn clue," Gunn complained. "I think we're on Preston…."

"It's Preston," Faith called back over her shoulder towards him.

"Okay, it's definitely Preston," he corrected. "It would be so much easier if Angel had let us drive, but he said it'd be easier for him to track her on foot…."

Gunn stopped as Angel finally ceased his search. Angel turned, looking towards a peach home. From the sidewalk, they could all see the front door slightly ajar. Light spilled out onto the darkened porch.

"Looks like we hit the jackpot," Faith said.

"Fred, baby, how do we kill this thing?"

"Um, that's where we've kinda hit a snag."

"How big of a snag?"

"Big enough to unravel the whole sweater," Fred sighed. "None of the texts say how to kill it."

"2713 Preston," Gunn replied, reading the gold numbers hanging beside the door. "Find the answer and meet us here."

"Okay. Charles, be careful."

"I always am," he promised, placing his phone securely in his jacket.

"What are we dealing with here, Gunn?" Angel asked, his gaze never leaving the doorway.

"Um, big nasty demon feeding off pain. Fred said they didn't know how we could kill it."

"I say we stick with the old standard," Faith said, raising her sword. "Pure, unadulterated violence."

As if agreeing, Angel raised his sword and proceeded towards the front door of the home. Gunn and Faith followed close behind, each bracing themselves for what would greet them on the other side of the door.


	5. The Quest for Amends-- Chapter 5

****

***I bow down to Kel—my cheerleader! And I will now do my interpretive dance entitled "Why I Love Feedback" for everyone who has offered their opinions on my fic. You all rock! Look for the second chapter in the series soon!***

**********

"Anything?" Fred asked, standing over Cordelia's shoulder.

"No," Cordelia sighed, slamming the book shut. "It all says the same. Spell raises demon. Demon wreaks havoc. Demon dies—reason unknown."

"There has to be a way to kill it," Fred said, turning her attention back to the journal open in her arms. "Maybe Wesley has found something."

"Yeah," Cordelia mumbled. "Maybe."

"I'm probably going to be sorry I asked," Fred said quietly, "but what were you guys fighting about earlier?"

"Everything and nothing," she sighed, flipping the page in her book. She looked up at Fred. "This just isn't right, Fred. All of us working together like old times."

Fred shrugged slightly in response. "Someone has to save this girl, right?"

Cordelia simply frowned.

"We're running out of time," Wesley said as he stepped out of the office, a large tome under his arm.

"And what exactly are we supposed to do, Wesley?" Cordelia asked, turning her attention to him. "Throw our books at the demon? Hope he dies of a horrible paper cut?"

"You have a strong vampire, an even stronger Slayer, and a street fighter facing off against a demon," Wesley explained. "They can hold the demon back, but for how long? What we need to do now is grab weapons and go to help them."

Cordelia stood, approaching him. "Under normal circumstances, I would tell you where you could put your orders, but since Angel and Gunn's lives are at stake…." She glanced over her shoulder at Fred, "Get the weapons, Fred."

Cordelia turned back to Wesley, holding his stare for a moment, before turning to help Fred at the weapons cabinet.

**********

"That can't be good," Faith frowned as she and Gunn watched Angel step over the threshold of the house.

"No, it can't," he agreed, looking towards the staircase that led to the upper level of the home.

"Are we too late?" Gunn asked.

Before Angel could respond, a body flew over the railing and landed at their feet with a sickening thud. Everyone stared down at the woman's body. Unblinking eyes, frozen in a state of fear, stared back at them. Her body was pale, and her mouth was open slightly in the beginnings of a scream. Apparently, the scream had been cut short when her throat had been ripped open from ear to ear.

"Is that…?" Gunn began, looking up at Faith.

"No," Faith and Angel replied in unison.

Faith looked at him, taken aback.

"Different scent," he admitted quietly.

"So, if she's not the girl we're looking for…?" Gunn asked.

"The new girlfriend," Faith frowned.

A primal screech from upstairs echoed throughout the house.

Without hesitation, they followed the sound, Angel leading the way. At the top of the stairs, they came to a stumbling halt.

"Holy…" Gunn started.

"Shit!" Faith finished, her eyes traveling over every inch of the demon.

Even slightly crouched over in the hallway, it was huge. Nearly seven feet in height, the Vilskitoff's black scaly skin glistened as if covered in slime. Two large spikes jutted from the tops of each shoulder, ending in points that could probably draw blood with even the slightest touch. Its chiseled arms ended with serrated talons, the better to rip viciously into tender human flesh.

The demon paid them no heed as it released another high-pitched screech at a closed doorway further down the hall. They each grimaced as the sound vibrated painfully off their eardrums.

"This ain't gonna be pretty," Gunn grumbled, tightening his grip on his axe.

"It has them cornered in that room," Angel deducted, watching the demon intently. "Faith, Gunn and I will distract it, and you get them out of here." He waited a moment before glancing towards Gunn, "You ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" 

The men started off towards the demon, Faith a few steps behind. They stopped within a few feet, and its head rolled slowly towards them.

Its face, even with deep amber eyes, looked oddly human, almost unthreatening. Until it screeched again. Its mouth opened wide, like a snake unhinging its jaws to devour its prey, and the razor sharp teeth were perfectly displayed.

Like an eighteen-wheeler on an open stretch of highway, it came at them with quickness and determination that contradicted its overwhelming size. Its heavy footfalls vibrated throughout the hallway as it neared them. Together, Angel and Gunn advanced on the beast, Angel taking its right and Gunn its left. Faith stayed back, waiting for her moment.

The demon swung angrily at Gunn first, but he dodged the blow. The Vilskitoff's hand collided with the wall, shattering the drywall and sending up a cloud. Gunn raised his axe and brought it down heavily on the creature's arm.

The creature screeched again, reaching a new, glass-shattering decibel. The axe hung in its arm for a moment as Angel speared the demon on his sword. Another screech.

Faith, feeling that it was now or never, squeezed past the chaotic scene. She tried to open the bedroom door but found that it wouldn't budge. With a loud groan, Faith pushed at the door, feeling the heavy weight of a piece of furniture finally give way.

"No!" came a male voice from within the room.

Faith entered the room, sword up and ready.

"No! Leave us alone!"

She turned, following the voice.

Huddled in a corner of the room was a man Faith presumed to be Sara's ex. He held Sara's pale body close to his own.

"Cool it," Faith replied, her voice more soothing than she had heard in a long time. "I'm a good guy."

She approached them and knelt, gently touching Sara's neck and feeling for a pulse. She frowned. The girl was barely holding on, her heart close to giving out. She gingerly touched the girl's tattered blouse. A gut wound. That gave her more time, a fact that Faith knew from experience. Although they were the most painful of all wounds, they were also the ones you could survive the longest with.

"Michelle… Is she dead?" the man gasped.

"Yeah," Faith said quietly, her eyes never leaving Sara's pale face.

"God, what the hell is that thing?" he choked out.

Faith finally looked up at him, taking note of the large gash on his right arm.

She stood and listened to the commotion that seemed to have traveled further down the hallway.

"Look, that doesn't matter now," Faith replied, glancing down at him. "We wait to discuss this crap, and she dies too."

She walked towards the doorway, peeking her head out.

Angel picked himself up off the floor with a growl. The Vilskitoff wrapped a hand around Gunn's throat and lifted him from the floor with ease. Angel picked up his sword and plunged it deep into the demon's bowels. With a screech, it dropped Gunn. It instantly grabbed Angel by the throat and hurled him down the staircase. Faith heard the loud thud of Angel landing somewhere at the bottom of the stairs. With Angel's sword still in its back, the Vilskitoff grabbed Gunn by the back of his collar. It skittered down the staircase, dragging Gunn like a ragdoll.

Faith ran back up to Sara's ex, grabbing one of Sara's arms and lifting the girl to her feet. She draped the girl's limp arm around her neck and wrapped her free arm around the girl's waist.

She looked back down at the man with a frown as she growled, "Are you going to help, or are you just gonna sit there and die?"

The man instantly jumped to his feet, took hold of Sara's other arm, and wrapped it around his neck.

As they proceeded out of the room, Faith ordered quietly, "Get her out of here. Go to a neighbor's. Call an ambulance." She stopped at the top of the stairs as she added firmly, "Get out that door. Do not hesitate. Do not look back. You do either, and you'll both end up dead. Trust me."

He nodded, gently lifting Sara into his arms. Faith motioned at him to go as she jumped the banister. She landed in a crouch on the living room floor.

She glanced over her shoulder long enough to see him hurriedly carrying Sara out the front door before she turned her full attention back to Angel and Gunn.

"Go for the heart!" Gunn yelled as he brought his axe down on the demon's arm, taking its hand off at the wrist.

"Does it even have a heart?" Angel yelled back over the demon's pain-filled screech.

Angel raised his sword, ready to bury it in the demon's skull. Just as he was about to bring the blade down, he caught a flash of metal at the demon's neck. 

The demon stood still for a moment, its face frozen in a grimace. Everything fell silent, and both men stopped in their tracks. The demon's head slowly slid off its neck, and the slimy sound of bone and muscle rubbing together echoed in the silence. The rest of the Vilskitoff fell after its head, revealing Faith behind it, her sword covered in the demon's dark green ooze.

"Never send a man to do a woman's job," she smirked at them. "Quick and simple, guys."

"I could have done that," Gunn frowned.

Angel simply gave Faith a stunned smile as he lowered his sword.

****

**********

Wesley's SUV pulled up to the curb and the squeal of rubber on the asphalt echoed in the air.

Angel, Gunn, and Faith strolled out of the house as the others stepped out of the car.

The groups approached each other and met halfway up the front walk, mingling only for a moment before separating into their rightful places. Faith stood at Wesley's side, gently tapping her sword against her leg. The others stood across from them. Gunn draped a tired arm around Fred's shoulders, and Cordelia stood at Angel's side, gently touching his arm.

"I assume the Vilskitoff is dead," Wesley said, glancing at Faith.

"Completely," she smiled.

"Sorry we couldn't come through with a way to kill it," Fred said, looking up at Gunn.

Gunn smiled back at her, kissing her forehead gently. "Babe, you totally came through."

"What about Sara?" Cordelia asked.

"We heard the ambulance leave not too long ago," Angel replied. "She'll be okay."

Everyone fell silent, no one knowing what else to say. 

Wesley finally cleared his throat before announcing, "Faith and I should be going." He hesitated before looking towards Angel and adding, "Perhaps, we could take you back to the car?"

"We'll walk," Angel replied as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Cordelia nudged Angel with her elbow. "Thanks, but we'll just call a cab."

Wesley nodded as Gunn reached into his jacket and removed his cell phone.

They all stood in silence a moment longer before Faith and Wesley turned, making their way towards his SUV. They climbed in, and Faith tossed her sword in the backseat. The others watched silently from the sidewalk.

Faith reached for the radio and flipped it on as Wesley pulled away from the curb. The Rolling Stones' "Paint it Black" played softly on the classic rock station. Faith tapped her fingers against the armrest and glanced over at Wesley. His eyes were focused on his side mirror, a deep frown on his face. She followed his gaze, looking into her own side view mirror.

Angel and the others stood together on the sidewalk, waiting for their cab.

Wesley exhaled deeply and returned his gaze to the road ahead of him. 

Faith watched him for a moment longer before turning to look out her window. She mouthed the words to the song as she settled into her seat, "Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts… It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black…."  


**********

"See what happens when you wish for a vision?" Cordelia asked as Gunn handed her a re-warmed carton of sweet and sour chicken.

Gunn grunted as he made his way to the hotel counter, where Fred sat, Indian-style. He handed her a carton of broccoli stir-fry and pulled his stool closer to her before taking a seat.

"You wished for a vision?" Fred asked around a mouthful of sautéed broccoli.

"And I'm sorry I did."

Everyone ate quietly for a moment before Fred sighed, "Am I the only one who sees the elephant in the room?"

"Fred." Cordelia slowly raised her eyebrow. "Did someone slip something into your food?"

Gunn reached up for her takeout carton, but she pulled it away from his grasp with a playful smile. The smile turned somber as she looked from Gunn to Cordelia and back again. "I'm talking about the elephant wearing the sign that reads, 'Wesley was here.'"

"Oh, that elephant," Gunn sighed.

"I don't care much for that elephant," Cordelia added, biting into a piece of chicken.

"I think I can speak for the majority when I say it felt kinda weird," Fred replied. "I mean, does he seem different to anyone else?"

Cordelia simply shrugged. 

"And what is up with that Faith chick?" Gunn asked. "Love the violence much?"

Cordelia chuckled quietly in response. "Gunn, if you only knew."

Gunn raised a curious eyebrow.

"Was it supposed to feel weird?" Fred sighed.

"Fred, baby," Gunn said, laying a soothing hand on her knee. "He lied to all of us and stole Angel's kid…." He nodded towards the staircase Angel had ascended as soon as they had gotten home. "Weird is only just the beginning."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I just thought that…that…."

"That when he did come back, it would feel right," Cordelia said with an understanding nod. "That we'd feel like a family again."

"Yeah," Fred replied, her voice cracking slightly.

Gunn squeezed her knee reassuringly, and the trio began to eat in silence.

**********

"Thanks. Keep the change," Faith said to the delivery guy before knocking the apartment door closed with her hip. She stepped into the living room where Wesley sat at the couch. His left hand propped up his head as his right hand aimlessly clicked the remote.

"I come bearing gifts from the Orient," Faith smiled.

"The Chinese place on the corner of Third and Main isn't quite the Orient, Faith," Wesley replied, glancing up at her before returning his eyes to the TV screen ahead of him.

"Whatever," Faith shrugged, placing the takeout carriers on the coffee table. "It's all the same."

She sat down beside him. She grabbed her carton of chop suey and kicked her feet up on the coffee table. When Wesley made no move for his food, she said, "Well, you're oddly quiet tonight."

"Sorry. I'm just…."

"Thinking?" Faith finished. "Yeah, I kinda guessed that. And I'll bet money I can guess what you're thinking."

Wesley simply smiled.

"You're thinking that tonight was the shittiest experience of your life—having to work with people that hate your guts and pretend that everything's kosher." She shrugged, adding with a smile, "And you're wondering how I, of all people, can know you so well."

"Among other things," Wesley replied, amused.

"Call it intuition."

"And what else is your intuition telling you?"

"That you shouldn't beat yourself up," Faith frowned. "They'll forgive you when they want to. You can't make someone forgive you, no matter how much you try. I know."

"Interesting," Wesley said quietly.

"You know, it won't bother me if you don't eat your food, it being paid with your money and all, but you at least gotta open the fortune cookie. It's tradition."

Wesley glanced at the fortune cookie that Faith had placed on top of his takeout carton. He leaned forward, picked it up, and held it in his hands for a moment.

Finally, he turned to Faith with a rueful smile. "How about I save it for another time?" 

"Whatever makes you happy, Wes," she replied with a nod.

Wesley nodded back and returned the cookie to the table. 


	6. The Path to Amends

Second Chapter: The Path to Amends

Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG/PG-13

Disclaimer: My lawyer advises me to stop referring to myself as the owner of these characters' souls. Stupid lawyer.

Spoilers: All of Season 3 AtS.

Distribution: Feel free. Just tell me where.

Feedback: I'm not above begging. ;-) (Thanks to all you guys who have kept me from begging!)

Summary: Grudges become a matter of life and death for Rogue and Angel Investigations.

Author's Note: HUGE thanks to Kel, who helped mold this story into what it is. Even if it meant, reading it over and over and OVER again! :-)

*********

When Wesley had suggested going out and celebrating the latest check made out to Rogue Investigations for an overwhelming three hundred dollars, she thought he would go with what had become their old standard. A night of pizza, shooting pool, playing darts, and drinking it up at one of the local bars. Not some stuffy, self-absorbed French restaurant downtown.

Her first thought—"I have to wear a skirt, don't I?"

Faith stood in front of the mirror, tugging at her shimmery red camisole. The tattoo wrapped around her right bicep stood out against the glimmering fabric. She frowned slightly at her reflection as she ran her hands down her clingy black skirt.

She had spent a good part of her afternoon browsing in department stores, looking for an outfit that resembled something she would actually wear.

Now, as she stood in her bedroom, examining the slit in the skirt that ran midway up her toned thigh, she thought that this was probably as close as she was going to get.

She stared at her reflection for a moment longer, taken aback when, for a split second, it seemed like her mother's young reflection was looking back at her.

Faith's body went numb.

That thought had come out of nowhere, and she had not been prepared for it. Normally, she could feel the memories of her mother creeping up on her, but that one had slipped by her radar….

"Faith?" Wesley called from the other side of her closed bedroom door.

Faith hesitated for a moment, running a hand through her long wavy mane, as her mind continued to reel. "What?"

"Are you almost done in there?" he replied, leaning against the door. "Our reservations are for nine, and it's eight-thirty."

"Give me, like, five more minutes."

"Five minutes starting now," Wesley replied as he began to retreat down the hallway.

Faith quickly made her way to her bedroom door, pulling it open slightly. She stuck her head out and called to him, "Look, pal, you're the one who wanted to do this whole fancy dinner crap, okay? You should just be happy that I agreed."

Wesley turned back to her, a slight smirk on his face, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Five minutes, Faith." He continued down the hallway without saying another word.

Faith growled under her breath and slammed the bedroom door shut.

Faith had actually grown accustomed to living with Wesley, and for the most part, they got along pretty well. But every once and a while, like just then, that former Watcher persona came out to play. The one that felt the need to order her around and treat her like an undisciplined child. And it was at those moments that Faith wondered what the hell she was doing there, living with a man who, a mere three years ago, had driven her up a wall with only a look….

A soft knock on her bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts. 

She looked at the door, arms crossed over her chest, silent.

"Faith?"

Unconsciously, she glanced at her watch, checking to see if her five minutes were up.

"I'll cut you a deal," Wesley continued, leaning against the door again. "We'll go eat our fancy dinner and pretend we're important people for a few hours, and then, we can do whatever you want to do…. That fine by you?"

And it was at moments like these that Faith realized why she put up with the British guy….

She smiled happily, but toned the smile down to a slight grin as she opened the bedroom door. Wesley, dressed in dark slacks and a light blue button-down shirt, waited patiently for her on the other side of the hallway.

"Let's get this show on the road," she replied, pulling her bedroom door closed.

"Wow, Faith, you look quite…"

Faith rolled her eyes in response, starting down the hallway. "Sexy, awesome, gorgeous," she interrupted. "Yeah, I know. Now, come on."

Wesley chuckled quietly as he followed after her. "Actually, I was going to say different."

Faith turned to him, opening the apartment door. "You know," she smirked, "if I hadn't wasted so much time prettying myself all up, I would kick your ass right now."

"I'm sure you would," Wesley replied, grabbing his matching dark jacket off the back of the couch.

He smiled at her as he locked the apartment door securely behind them.

**********

"So I take it you've been here before?" Faith asked, glancing up from her menu.

Wesley glanced up from his own menu, hesitating long enough to clear his throat. "No, actually I haven't," he finally replied.

Faith raised a curious eyebrow at him, and he knew that she could see right through him. He had learned to read her little facial tics, and that was the one she gave him when she had just caught him in a bold-faced lie.

She didn't push it any further, though. "Huh," was all she said as she returned her attention to the menu before her.

He had been in the restaurant only one time before. With them—Cordelia, Gunn, and Angel. They had been celebrating Cordelia's new commercial, and things had been quite different then.

Then, it had been Angel who had been suffering from a dark phase. By the time they'd gone to dinner, he had worked his way back into their good graces. They had sat together like old friends, like a family brought back together. All the bitterness that each of them held towards Angel had dissipated. They had forgiven him for his misgivings because he was a part of the unit, a part of the family.

Apparently, things changed….

"Wes?" Faith said. "Yo, Earth to Wesley."

Wesley quickly snapped out of his thoughts, looking up. Faith motioned to the waiter who stood at their table, patiently waiting.

"Are you going to order or just stare at the menu all night?" she asked.

"Yes, sorry," Wesley replied, glancing up at the waiter apologetically. He studied the menu for a moment longer before finally ordering.

**********

"Now, was that such a horrendous experience?" Wesley asked as he and Faith strolled through the parking lot and towards his SUV.

She shrugged in response. "I guess it was okay. If you like that kind of stuff."

"You need a little culture in your life," Wesley smiled.

Faith scoffed gently. "Says you."

They approached the car, Faith's hand on the passenger door handle as she asked, "So, are you ready to have my kind of fun?"

Wesley fumbled with the car keys for a moment, dropping them to the concrete with a jangle. "I'm ready," he said, retrieving the keys.

Wesley stood just in time to see the figure over Faith's shoulder.

"Faith!" he managed.

Faith turned to feel the knife graze her abdomen, ripping her shirt but never touching her skin. She looked up at the vampire, her eyes dark with rage.

"Son of a bitch!" she growled, grabbing the front of the vampire's tattered T-shirt and flipping him over onto the hood of the SUV.

Wesley moved to help her but was grabbed from behind by another vampire. He felt a small prick at the back of his neck as he elbowed the vampire roughly to the stomach. It doubled over in pain, and Wesley grabbed its arm and twisted it roughly around, listening to the sound of the shoulder dislodging from its joint.

"I actually liked this shirt!" Faith fumed as she reached up inside her skirt and removed a stake. 

She raised her arm, ready to plunge the stake deep into the vampire's unbeating heart, but stopped short. Her hand still holding the vampire securely against the hood of the car, Faith turned and plunged her stake into a second one who had tried to sneak up behind her.

Wesley punched the injured vampire hard, sending him to the ground, just as another attacked him. They fell to the concrete as they struggled.

Faith plunged her stake deep into the remaining vampire's chest, and his ashes scattered onto the car.

"Wes!" she yelled as he untangled himself from the vampire's grasp.

She tossed him the stake, and in one fluid motion, he caught it and staked his attacker.

When he turned to stake the vampire he had punched earlier, it was already gone into the night. 

"Dammit," he growled before turning to Faith who had joined him on his side of the car. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm cool. You?"

"I think he tried to bite me," Wesley frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Leave it to the undead to ruin a pretty decent night, huh?" 

"Yes, well…" He handed her the stake as he smirked, "I'm not even going to ask where you had that hidden."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she asked with a devious smile. She returned to her side of the car as she continued, "You're not going to use this little undead-interruption to weasel out of your deal, are you?"

"Now, would I ever do such a thing?" Wesley asked, unlocking the car and opening his door.

Faith simply smirked, raising her perfectly arched eyebrow at him before sliding into the passenger seat.

*********

Lilah entered her office to find the curtains drawn and the vampire sitting in the chair across from her desk.

"Well, good morning," she replied nonchalantly, placing her briefcase on her desk.

"You sent us on a suicide mission," the demon hissed in response, a hand held gingerly to his left shoulder.

Lilah leaned against the edge of her desk. "In order for it to be a suicide mission," she smiled, "you'd have to be alive."

The vampire simply grumbled in response.

"So, did you complete my orders?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes."

"Good. So the girl has been injected?"

The vampire simply looked at her.

A deep frown formed on Lilah's perfectly painted lips as she repeated, "The girl _has_ been injected, correct?"

The vampire turned his eyes towards the cream-colored carpet.

Lilah huffed, removing herself from the edge of the desk. "Perfect," she fumed, walking towards the window. 

"We thought… we thought your goal was the man."

Lilah turned to him, an agitated eyebrow raised. "Ultimately, yes. But _your_ goal was to inject the girl." She waited a moment before asking, "So, you injected the man?"

The vampire simply nodded.

"Well, this should prove interesting."

She turned back to her curtains, her fingers gently playing with the cord.

After a moment, she turned to the vampire again, a slight smile on her face. "Well, I guess we both learned something here. I learned not to depend on others when I can do the job ten times better myself, and you?"

She yanked the cord, opening her curtains completely. Morning sun poured onto every surface of the office. The injured vampire proved too slow as he moved from his chair. An explosion of dust littered the floor near Lilah's desk.

"Well, you learned to do the job right the first time."

She casually strolled to her desk, running her finger across some of the dust that littered the edge. She rubbed her fingers together with a frown and reached for the phone.

"Beverly," she said into the receiver. "Could you send housekeeping up for me? Thank you."

Lilah hung up the phone and sat behind her desk with a sigh. She drummed her manicured and polished nails upon the wood finish, listening to the sound echo in her silent office.

Once again, the game had changed on her….

But maybe this could work in her favor, after all.


	7. The Path to Amends-- Chapter 2

The pounding in his head woke Wesley from his dreamless slumber. He closed his eyes tightly as the pain seemed to travel to every joint in his body.

This was not a hangover; he knew that for a fact. He had almost become immune to the nauseating, throbbing aftereffects of a night of drinking. This was different. This felt like death itself.

He sat up slowly, his hands reaching up to massage his throbbing temples. Kicking back his sheets, Wesley dangled his legs over the side of his bed. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he made his way out of the bed and towards his closet. He pulled a T-shirt on over his head and gradually slipped on a pair of slacks, every movement sending a new wave of discomfort through his nervous system.

Once dressed, he stumbled into the living room where Faith sat on the couch, watching an infomercial on a new piece of fitness equipment. Wesley leaned against the wall for support as she finally turned to acknowledge him.

"Hey," she smiled. She studied him for a moment before her smile changed. "Wesley, man, you look like hell."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Faith," he grumbled.

"Someone's got a bad hangover," she smirked, turning back to the television.

"No, I think it may be food poisoning…."

Faith turned to him again, sitting up on her knees, as she replied, "We had the same thing last night, and I feel fine."

"Yes, well, maybe after I have a cup of tea, I'll feel better as well."

Wesley pushed himself from the wall. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. He placed a hand on the doorframe to steady himself as his world began to spin before his eyes.

"Wes, you okay?" 

"Faith," he replied quietly, closing his eyes, "something isn't right here…."

Wesley collapsed to the floor. Without hesitation, Faith leapt over the back of the couch and ran over to him. She slid across the kitchen floor in her socks before kneeling beside him.

"Wesley!" she yelled, lifting his head into her lap. "Wes!"

He lay silent. Eyes closed, breathing ragged. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His skin was much paler and cooler to the touch than Faith was comfortable with.

"Wes?" she asked, slapping his face gently.

Her own heart racing, Faith glanced around the apartment as Wesley's last words echoed in her mind.

**********

Sitting at Cordelia's desk, Fred closed the book on hell dimensions with a heavy sigh. She glanced around the empty hotel lobby, a frown formed on her delicate face. Gunn had left her not too long ago to pick up breakfast burritos for brunch, and the hotel had seemed eerily dead ever since. 

Angel was downstairs, possibly doing tai chi.

Or maybe beating the living crap out of his punching bag, she thought, her frown only deepening.

He had been doing that a lot lately, disappearing to the darkness of the basement for hours at a time. Returning only when he was drained of all the pent up rage and aggression that he had had within him for the day. Fred could only assume that it was a form of therapy for him, a way to get out all those feelings he didn't want to express to his friends. 

Besides, it was better for him to beat the crap out of an inanimate object instead of some innocent bystander… or Wesley….

Fred sighed again as she glanced at her watch and then at the staircase Cordelia had climbed nearly two hours ago.

Cordelia had been up all night, reading on hell dimensions and portals. She lived and breathed these journals now, in hopes of finding the one thing that could bring Connor back to them. She had finally given up her search for the night only because her body so desperately needed rest.

It took much convincing on Fred's part, but she had finally struck a deal that Cordelia could agree to. Fred would continue the research in her absence as long as Cordelia promised to give her mind and body a break for a moment.

"I'll only be out for an hour or so," Cordelia had yawned before disappearing upstairs.

Now as Fred stared down at the cover of the journal, she wondered how Cordelia could keep reading about hell dimensions without going insane. Fred hated reading about all the hell dimensions that could be opened into their world by a simple cosmic shift. Even the simplest spell could open up a portal to the deepest of nightmares, blending their reality with another realm's darkness. 

Hell dimensions reminded Fred of Pylea, of her five hopeless years there. Pylea reminded her of Angel, swooping in on a horse and rescuing her. Her rescue reminded her of the new life she had formed here in LA. Her new life in LA reminded her of her new family—Angel, Gunn, Cordelia, and Wesley. Wesley reminded her of Connor, and Connor reminded her of hell dimensions.

It was a never-ending cycle in her mind.

Her gaze shifted from the journal as she heard the hotel door swing open. She instantly got to her feet, welcoming anything that would get her mind out of the depressing cycle. She eagerly walked around the hotel counter to greet her visitor.

"Hi, Welcome to Angel Investigations. How can I…?"

Fred's words caught in her throat as her visitor finally turned to greet her.

"Where's Angel?" Faith asked her.

Fred simply looked at her.

Faith rolled her eyes at the girl's silence. "Have you gone deaf since the last time we crossed paths?" She sighed angrily and took an aggressive step towards Fred.

"No," Fred replied, annoyed, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Then, where's Angel?"

"Can I ask why you want to see him so badly?" Fred asked, unnerved by Faith's aggressive manner.

"Why do you care?" she growled.

Fred parted her lips to speak, but Angel's voice interrupted. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he pulled the basement door closed. 

"Faith, what are you doing here?" he asked.

Fred took notice of his undershirt drenched with sweat.

Therapy, she thought to herself, as she took a step away from Faith and towards the hotel counter.

"I need a favor," she replied, approaching him. "A big favor."

Angel raised a suspicious eyebrow at her.

Faith hesitated for a moment, nervously shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Look, I didn't know where else to turn. Normally, I wouldn't have come to you—to any of you—but I had no one else to go to."

"Faith," Angel replied gently. "What's going on?"

Fred, who had her back turned to them as she fidgeted with the business cards on the hotel counter, found herself surprised by the softness in his voice. She hadn't heard those tones on his voice in a long time, and it felt reassuring, even if it was directed towards a girl she didn't care too much for.

"It's Wes," Faith finally said. "He's sick. Knocking on heaven's door kind of sick."

Fred finally turned to them, her eyes wide with concern. The business cards slipped between her fingers and floated to the hotel floor.  


Angel leaned away from Faith in response, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes turned cold and his voice hit the monotone that Fred had grown accustomed to since Connor's disappearance. "This isn't a hospital, Faith."

"I know that," she frowned. "But I don't think this is a typical let's-prescribe-some-drugs kind of sick."

"Huh," Angel replied, frowning. With that, he turned, making his way back towards the basement. "I can't help you, Faith."

Fuming, she stormed after him. She grabbed his shoulder and roughly turned him to face her. "You can help me," she growled. "You just don't want to. If you don't help me, Wes will die."

Angel grabbed her wrist aggressively and pried her grip from his arm. "Then so be it," he snarled, pushing away her arm.

"Angel," Cordelia's voice interrupted.

Angel and Faith turned towards the sound of her voice.

Cordelia approached them.

"Cordelia," Angel sighed, "this has nothing to do with you."

"Yes, it does, Angel," she replied. "It has to do with all of us. We're supposed to help the helpless, and as much as I hate to admit it, Faith is the helpless right now. We can't just turn our backs on her." She turned her gaze from Angel to Faith as she asked, "Where is he, Faith?"

Faith hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting from Cordelia to Angel and then back again. "In the car," she replied.

"Go get him, and we'll figure out how we can help."

Faith nodded before running out of the hotel.

Fred continued to watch silently from the hotel counter as Angel approached Cordelia. His brow furrowed as the frown on his face deepened.

"Cordy, I do not want that man to set foot in this hotel while I'm here…."

"Then may I suggest you leave?" Cordelia replied as she wrapped her arms around her waist. "Look, Angel, I'm upset with Wesley, too, but we can't just let him die. That's not how we operate around here. You know that."

Before Angel could respond, Faith returned with Wesley. One arm wrapped Wesley tightly at the waist. His arm draped over her shoulders, Faith's free hand held tightly to his wrist.

For a moment, Fred thought he was dead in the woman's arms.

She hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do. She glanced towards Cordelia and Angel. They continued to stare at each other, each frustrated by the other's stubbornness. She then turned her gaze back to Faith, who continued to hover near the doorway, as if she expected to be told to go away at any moment.

Her decision made, Fred walked slowly towards Faith. 

Cordelia held Angel's glare for a moment longer before turning and approaching the girls as they held up the semi-conscious Wesley.

"Take him upstairs, and then we'll figure out where to start," she ordered.

Faith and Fred gently carried him up the staircase. 

Cordelia turned to say something to Angel, but he had already disappeared back into the darkness of the basement.


	8. The Path to Amends-- Chapter 3

***Author's Notes: One, I adore you guys! Your feedback completely makes my day. And two, I took the liberty of creating a backstory for Faith and her mother in this section. According to canon, she died and she may or may not have been an alcoholic so I just kinda expanded it from there.***

********** 

"Ms. Morgan?"

Lilah looked up from her computer golf game. 

Mike, her newest assistant, peeked inside her office nervously. She motioned him in with a wave of her hand, and he entered, holding a manila folder tightly to his chest. His smile was a nervous twitch as Lilah raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him.

"May I help you, Mike?"

"Ms. Morgan, I finished checking with all the local hospitals," he replied, his twitchy smile fading. "None have admitted a man by the name Wyndam-Pryce."

Lilah nodded, picking up the small glass vial that sat beside her keyboard. She wrapped her hand around it and warmed the cool glass with her palm. "I want you to keep checking every hour on the hour, and report back to me if you hear anything."

"Yes, ma'am," Mike replied with an eager nod.

He briskly strolled out of the office as Lilah tapped the bottom of the glass against her desk.

She held the vial at eye-level and tilted it slightly, watching as the light purple liquid inside followed the motion.

If the vampire had injected Wesley, she wondered, why wasn't he at the hospital by now?

The toxin, engineered by Wolfram and Hart scientists, had been created specifically for Lilah's special project. They had taken the secretions of a Kreslik demon and created a substance so potent that it would knock out a Slayer….

And Lilah had a specific Slayer in mind.

From their last encounter, Lilah had learned an important lesson about Wesley and the girl. Faith was his weakness. He had his heart so set on not abandoning the girl and proving his goodness that he would risk his life for her. To get Wesley where she wanted him, she needed to go for the jugular.

And at this moment, Faith appeared to be his lifeline.

This time her plan was not supposed to fail. Faith would have been injected with the toxin, and Lilah would be the only one with an antidote, the only one who could bring the girl back from death's doorstep. Wesley would have been forced to concede with Lilah's orders if he wanted the girl to live.

The toxin had been created with a Slayer's super-human immune system in mind. She had wanted something to incapacitate the girl. Just something to lead her straight to the edge of the abyss but never let her drop into the darkness.

However, thanks to her choice of inept attackers, Wesley had been injected instead. His body wouldn't be able to handle the toxin as well. Injection meant his imminent death unless he was administered the antidote fairly soon.

And that's where Lilah's new plan kicked into action. Faith didn't seem like the brightest bulb, but even she would have to put the pieces together eventually. And when she did, Lilah would be patiently waiting with a proposition.

Wolfram and Hart could always use a Slayer on their side, especially one as dark and violent as Faith. And with the Slayer came the Watcher. It was a package deal that Lilah just couldn't pass up.

Lilah opened the bottom drawer of her desk and removed a small box. She laid the vial in its cushioned spot and closed the lid. She placed the box back in the drawer and removed a key from the pocket of her skirt, locking the drawer securely. The key twirled between her fingers for a moment before she returned it to her pocket. 

Then Lilah settled back into her chair and restarted her golf game.

**********

Faith stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. She watched Wesley intently as she listened to the others whispering.

"Someone want to tell me why they're here?" Gunn asked.

They stood in the far corner of the room, near the door, forming a tight circle.

"Because Faith doesn't think this is a normal thing," Cordelia replied, glancing over at the Slayer as she stood unmoving by the bed.

"Yeah, and she doesn't strike me as the paranoid type," Gunn scoffed.

Cordelia rolled her eyes at Gunn before turning to Fred, who was nervously pulling on a loose strand hair. "Any ideas, Fred?"

"Well, Wesley isn't conscious enough to tell us how he feels," she frowned. "We'd probably need to draw some of his blood and analyze it for something out of the ordinary. I'm not sure who we'd get to do it though…."

Gunn and Cordelia simply looked at her expectantly.

Fred looked back at them, eyes wide. "No way!" she squeaked quietly. "I… I can't. I'm so _not_ qualified for that job."

"Okay, who else do we know who could do it?" Cordelia sighed.

"Unfortunately," Fred replied, nodding towards Wesley's unconscious form. 

Cordelia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "There has to be someone…."

At that moment, Lorne strolled into the room.

"Hey, kiddies!" he greeted cheerfully. "What's all the…?"

His words stopped as he saw Wesley's pale body in the bed.

Faith instantly turned her gaze towards the new voice. "What the hell are you?" 

"I'm a little bit country," he replied with a half-smile and extended his hand. "So you must be a little bit rock and roll."

Faith simply stared at him.

"Charming." He pulled his hand back. He turned to the others as he asked, "Would someone like to fill me in?"

"Wes is sick," Cordelia said, approaching him. "Faith thinks it may be something paranormal."

"I don't think," she replied. "I know."

"And you're Faith, I presume." Lorne placed his left hand in the pocket of his red slacks as he looked her over.

"You presume right." She sighed, finally dropping her arms. "Look, while you guys run your mouths, Wes is getting closer and closer to dying."

"Hey," Gunn replied, stepping up to them. "We're doing the best we can, okay? You're just lucky we didn't kick your ass out the front door."

"Gunn," Fred whispered harshly, pulling on the back of his shirt.

"You wanna try it?" Faith growled, stepping up to him.

"Okay, firecracker," Lorne said, gently pulling Faith away. She jerked away from his hand, and Lorne continued, "Let's all just take a moment to breathe, shall we?"

"Lorne," Fred sighed. "We need a doctor. Someone who could draw a blood sample and analyze it. Please tell me you know a doctor."

Lorne sighed, scratching his right horn as his brow furrowed in thought. "Not a doctor, per se," he finally admitted.

"Per se?" Cordelia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's a med student. One of my best regulars at Caritas…. Well, before Caritas was a big pile of flamin' rubble. She could sing the Alphabet and bring you to tears. Seriously, by the time she would get to 'G', you'd be bawling like a baby. I once told her singing was her calling, not medicine," he mused with a smile.

"Lorne, the point?" Cordelia sighed.

"She may be able to help you. I'll give her a call."

"Thank you," Cordelia and Fred replied together.

Lorne smiled softly at them and walked quickly out of the room.

With Lorne gone, Faith returned to her vigil at the foot of Wesley's bed.

Cordelia nodded towards the doorway, and taking her cue, Fred and Gunn walked out of the room. Cordelia lingered over Faith's shoulder for a moment, neither speaking.

"Faith…." she began softly.

Faith shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans. "I'm not in the mood to share right now, Cordelia."

"I'm sure you're not, but…."

Faith looked at her over her shoulder. "Not. In. The mood."

Cordelia nodded, and Faith returned her gaze to Wesley.

As she walked out of the room, Cordelia added gently, "If you need anything, we'll be downstairs."

Faith did not reply. She just listened as Cordelia pulled the door closed.

**********

The punching bag swung back at him violently. 

With a primal growl, Angel slammed his fist into it one last time. He took a step away, his breathing hard. He stopped panting long enough to listen to the silence of the basement, to see if he could hear them moving around above him.

Sometimes, he couldn't understand Cordelia. He couldn't understand why she was being so forgiving of a man who caused them all such pain….

And now that man was in his hotel, and they were trying to save a life that he had tried to snuff out himself. He should have killed him when he had the chance. That would have put an end to everything. He wouldn't have to keep thinking about Wesley up and walking around while his son perished in a hell dimension. He should have just wrapped his hands around his neck and twisted, hearing that delightful sound of bones cracking under his force….

Gunn and Fred had been the ones to save Wesley's life that night in the hospital. Them and the guards. They had kept Angel from suffocating the bastard while he lay unable to truly defend himself. Today, he had been given the chance to end the man's life again. To turn Faith away and let him die, and he almost did…. Then, Cordelia came and saved his life again.

It was becoming a horrible trend in his life. Every time he was given the chance to even the score, his friends would swoop in and rescue the traitor from his fate. Whose side were they on anyway?

Angel growled and took another swing at his punching bag.

**********

Faith sat at Wesley's bedside in a large, cushioned chair. A few hours ago, she had retrieved it from the corner of the room when she had tired of standing. She sat back, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair.

He's too pale, she thought as her eyes traveled over every inch of his face.

Pale. Like a corpse.

Her gaze instantly trailed to his chest. She held her breath until she saw the sheets rise and fall gently.

A breathing corpse, she thought grimly.

Faith could hear the wood in the arms of the chair creak. They were on the verge of breaking under her powerful grip. She released the chair and wrapped her arms around herself.

She glanced down at her watch and sighed. It had only been an hour since the green demon's friend had come and drawn blood from Wesley. Meg, he had called her. Meg had told them that she would need to use the equipment on campus and that she would get back with them as soon as she found something out. 

"How long will that take?" Faith had asked.

"Not long," Meg had smiled reassuringly.

Liar, Faith fumed silently to herself. 

As Meg stood in the hallway with the demon, Faith could hear her whisper, "This could take all night."

Wesley didn't have all night. He barely had right now.

Faith frowned and scolded herself for not taking Wesley to a hospital.

She hated hospitals. Besides her own personal experience, the hospital had been the last place she had seen her mother alive.

Her mother's alcoholic ways had caught up with her when Faith was thirteen. Her body could take no more, and it seemed that one by one, her organs were giving up on her. Faith could vividly remember sitting at her dying mother's bedside, hating the woman for putting her through this. She could hear the quiet humming of the machines that kept her mother barely among living. She could still smell the antiseptics, the rubbing alcohol. She could even smell the industrial strength floor cleaner that the janitor was using in the hallway to clean up what Faith could only assume was another person's bodily fluids. She could hear the steady beeping of the monitor….

And then nothing but that long tone….

She remembered panicking as she listened to the hum of the machines drop behind the loud monotone. Her overwhelming fear and blinding panic kept her glued to her mother's bedside.

"They're on their way, mom," she had tried to reassure her unconscious mother.

"On their way," she repeated for her own benefit when they didn't come.

It felt like an eternity passed without anyone coming to help her. She stood at the edge of the bed silently, her hands clenched tightly around the metal railing of the bed.

She didn't know how long she had stood there, watching her mother die, before the doctors and nurses rushed into the room. Faith remembered getting shoved to the back of the room in the chaos.

She stood in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly over her nose and mouth. She held her breath until the chaos subsided. Until the nurses stepped away from the bed. Until the doctor turned off the heart monitor and looked up at the clock on the wall. Until he declared the time of death….

Only then did they notice the thirteen-year-old girl who had just watched her mother die.

Their apologies and condolences had fallen on deaf ears.

From that moment on, Faith held a pure, unbridled hatred for hospitals.

Now, as she sat at Wesley's bedside, she couldn't help but remember that day. Remember how helpless she felt as she watched her mother die.

Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. She leaned forward with a sigh, her hair cascading over her shoulders. Her fingers twisted and tugged the sheet near Wesley's limp hand. She kept her hand close to his, just close enough to feel his presence without touching.

"Wes, I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I'm gonna talk anyway," she frowned. Her gaze focused on her hand as she fiddled with the sheet. "You keep finding these new ways to surprise the hell out of me. First, you accept my half-assed apology. Then, you give me a place to crash. And now… now you have me caring whether you live or die."

She hesitated before continuing, "I, uh, don't trust too many people. I mean, why should I? When you do trust someone, they just fuck you over in the end. And you were no different. I mean, you tried to ship me off to England for some kind of crappy murder trail with the Council. I have no reason to trust you…. But here I am…." She paused with a sigh. "Here I am, Wes."

"This sounds so damn cliched, but you can't die on me. You die on me, and I will never trust you again." She finally took Wesley's cool hand into her flushed ones. "I want to trust you, Wesley," she said quietly, tears trailing down her cheeks.


	9. The Path to Amends-- Chapter 4

Cordelia sat behind Angel's desk, doodling in a notebook. She glanced at the phone and, then, at her watch. It had been hours since Meg had left to analyze Wesley's blood sample. They should have heard something by now, any kind of news. 

The longer it took to find out what was wrong with him, the longer it took them to find the proper cure, and the closer Wesley got to death….

"Fries?"

"What?" Cordelia asked, looking up from her notebook.

Fred entered the office, carrying a small white bag. She sat down across from Cordelia and placed the bag on the desk.

"I got you fries," Fred explained. "I thought you would be hungry."

"Oh, thanks." Cordelia smiled politely and picked up the bag. She retrieved a fry from within the bag and started nibbling on it.

"So, has Meg called yet?" Fred asked, sitting back in her chair with a sigh.

"No," Cordelia frowned. "Not yet."

Fred nodded. She waited a moment before asking, "How's he doing?"

"About the same. I just… No matter how much pain Wes has brought to us these last few weeks, I never would have wished this on him. I never wanted him to die."

"I'm pretty sure Angel doesn't feel the same."

Cordelia reached for another fry and sighed. "Last year, when Angel was going through his _first_ Darla phase, Wes was the leader. Wes was the one who kept us afloat. He forgave Angel… even before _I_ did. Now, the tables have turned, and I don't even know what to do to fix it."

"Maybe you can't fix it, Cordelia."

"Fred, if I don't, who will? Someone has to be the first to swallow their pride. Someone has to be the first to offer amends. We can't just keep ending up on this middle ground where no one truly forgives the other. Someone has to bring us back to square one."

"Don't get me wrong, Cordelia. I'm a big fan of square one. I'm very pro-square one, but… but what if we can never make it back there?"

"I at least have to try," Cordelia said as she reached for another fry.

Fred simply nodded in understanding.

**********

Angel stood in the doorway that led to the courtyard. Faith sat at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the cloudless night sky.

"Your little firecracker could use a friend right about now," Lorne said from his side.

Angel glanced over at him, surprised by his presence. He had been so focused on Faith that he never even heard the man sneak up behind him.

"She's in a bad place," Lorne continued.

"Why are you telling me this?" Angel muttered, returning his gaze to Faith.

"Because you haven't moved from this spot for a good twenty minutes." Lorne sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "She's bonded with a man you consider your enemy, and with good reason. In the back of your mind, you're wishing that he would die in that room upstairs."

Angel remained silent.

"But at the same time, you don't want him to die for her sake. Because you know that she needs someone she can trust in her life, and as much as you hate to believe it, she's found that in him."

Angel turned to him, an eyebrow raised in astonishment.

"Sometimes, you don't need music to see into someone's soul."

Lorne smiled softly and patted Angel on the back. With a nod, he turned and made his way back towards the office.

Angel hesitated a moment before pushing the courtyard door open.

"What do _you_ want?" Faith asked without even looking up to acknowledge him.

"I… I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Faith gave a bitter laugh that cut through him.

"Faith?"

"That's bullshit, Angel, and you know it." She finally looked up at him, her eyes fierce. "You could care less about anyone but yourself."

"You're wrong."

"I'm sorry, but is this coming from the man who's going to let Wes die because he's holding a grudge?"

"Faith," he fumed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know nothing about what's been happening with all of us…."

"You know what? I don't," she interrupted as she stood and approached him. "Maybe if someone had come to see me more than once while I was behind bars, I'd be more in the loop."

Angel grimaced. He had promised her that she wouldn't be alone on her path to redemption, that she would have a friend and confidant in him…. And like everyone else who had been in her life, he had failed her greatly.

Angel dropped his arms and sighed. "I'm sorry, Faith," he said gently. "I'm sorry that I didn't come to visit you. But… but I sent you letters, didn't I?"

Faith's eyes burned into him as she asked, "Do you even remember the last time you sent me a letter?"

Angel remained silent.

"Exactly," she fumed.

"Faith, I never… I never meant to lose touch, but everything just became so hectic around here that… that I forgot."

"Wow," she scoffed. "That makes me feel so special. You must say that to all the girls."

"Faith…." he began with a sigh. 

He reached out to touch her arm gently, but she angrily pushed his arm away. 

"And I thought you were different, you know. I thought you would actually be the one person to hold up your end of the deal, but you're just as fake as every other person I've ever known." She laughed bitterly. "You actually had me convinced that you were my friend, that you wouldn't abandon me. Well, you know what, Angel? You're not my friend. You will never _be_ my friend."

Angel swallowed hard at her words. He waited a moment before trying to explain. "Faith, you don't understand. Things haven't been exactly pleasant around here. With everything Wesley has done to us, I didn't have time to think about anything else. You have to understand."

"I understand that there was a prophecy. I understand that Wes took your kid because he thought he was saving the little rugrat. I understand that he almost died trying to save _your_ son. And yeah, I understand why you're pissed at him, but I _don't_ understand why you're not willing to forgive. Especially after so many people have forgiven you for your little Angelus lapses."

"That was different," he frowned.

"How? How is that different? You did something horrible that hurt everyone around you, and they forgave you…. A little too easily, if you ask me."

"I see you've chosen your side," Angel replied with a nod.

She shrugged in response. "Maybe I have."

"So, you decided to be friends with Wesley to spite me?"

"No, I became friends with Wesley because, oddly enough, he's the only one who seems to give a damn what happens to me. I've teased him and tormented him for years. I tried to kill him, and yet—for some reason _completely_ beyond me—he still cares whether I live or die." Faith paused, crossing her arms over her chest and looking Angel over. "Can you say the same?"

Before he could respond, Faith pushed past him, stepping back into the hotel.

Angel could faintly hear the phone ringing in the background as he focused his attention on a fading star in the black sky.


	10. The Path to Amends-- Chapter 5

***Rating: PG-13 for slight violence and a few naughty words***

**********

Faith stormed past the office where the others where gathered. The phone finally stopped ringing as Fred reached for it. Faith stopped only when she heard Fred say Meg's name.

"Meg, I'm so glad to hear from you," Fred sighed. "I hope you have good news."

"Depends on your definition of good," Meg replied grimly. "Your friend has been exposed to some kind of foreign toxin. I can't make a definite identification. Quite honestly, I've never seen anything like it before."

"When you say exposed, you mean like catching the chicken pox?"

"No, more like injection right into his system. Whatever this stuff is, it's prevalent in his bloodstream. You need to get him to a hospital immediately."

"What will they do?"

"You want the dark-and-unpleasant version or the lollipops-and-gumdrops version?"

"I need the truth, Meg. We all do."

Meg hesitated with a deep sigh. "Fred, I'm really sorry, but I honestly don't think they'll be able to do much but make his death less painful."

Fred swallowed hard, holding back her tears of frustration. "Thanks, Meg," she said quietly and hung up the phone.

"Well?" Lorne asked as he moved to her side.

"Wes has been injected with some kind of toxin that Meg can't identify," she explained. She paused for a moment to steady her voice. "She says… she says there's nothing we can do except take him to a hospital and let them deal with it."

"Not to be Mister I-told-you-so but…." Gunn said from a corner of the office.

Fred shot him a pained look and he frowned, looking down at his boots.

"Who would inject Wesley with something like that?" Cordelia, who sat behind Angel's desk, thought aloud.

Everyone turned to her as she answered her own question with a frown. "Lilah."

"Maybe we shouldn't tell Faith just yet," Fred said. "Not until we form a plan, at least. She doesn't really strike me as the let's-wait-and-strategize type."

With that, the hotel door slammed shut, echoing through the lobby.

"Fred, sweetie," Lorne said, glancing out the office door, "I think Faith just formed her own strategy."

**********

Lorne opened the door to the courtyard and stuck his head out. Angel did not move to acknowledge him. He continued to stare up at the night sky.

"Angelcakes, we have a slight problem," Lorne finally said.

Angel finally turned his gaze to him. "Slight?"

"Okay, maybe slight is a _teeny_ understatement."

"What's going on, Lorne?"

"I know you'd prefer to stay uninvolved, but I just thought that you'd like to know that your little firecracker has taken it upon herself to get the antidote for Wesley."

"Good for her," Angel replied quietly, turning his eyes back to the sky.

Lorne sighed as he continued to hover in the doorway. "Look, Angelcakes, I know this is none of my business, but that young woman has some serious issues. I can read her vibes like a Vegas sign. Her aura is just screaming, 'Trust issues here!'" He paused, studying Angel for a moment. "She thinks she can handle this herself. Are you really going to let her do that?"

Angel looked down as his hands tightly gripped the iron banister. "Faith's a big girl, Lorne. She can take care of herself."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"Look, Lorne, she made it quite clear that she wants nothing to do with me, alright?"

"You know, Angel, sometimes you have to listen to what someone's _not_ saying," Lorne frowned as he pulled the courtyard door shut.

Angel sighed deeply as he listened to the door close over his shoulder.

**********

Lilah opened her office door and had to bite her lower lip to hold in the primal scream forming in her throat.

The point of the crossbow rested against the bridge of her nose.

Faith smiled at her as her finger gripped the trigger. "You and I need to have a little woman-to-woman talk."

She pushed Lilah back into the office with her free hand and slammed the office door closed with her foot. Lilah stumbled backwards into her desk as Faith continued to advance on her.

Lilah cleared her throat to hide the stutter. "How did you get past security?"

"You call that security?" Faith scoffed. 

Lilah crept her hand towards her phone, hoping to be able to hit the intercom and alert someone to her problem. Faith caught the movement, and without hesitation, she shot an arrow into the phone.

Lilah squealed quietly and pulled her hand back. She looked back up at Faith who frowned at her. Smoothing down her hair with a shaky hand, Lilah took a deep breath and stood confidently.

"So, I assume this little visit of yours is in regards to Wesley."

Faith lowered her crossbow slightly. "Wes is sick, you have the cure, and I want it."

"And you will get it," she smiled, "but for a small price."

"Yeah, this isn't a negotiation," Faith countered. "You give me the cure. No price."

"I'm sorry, Faith, but that isn't how the civilized society functions." She casually crossed her arms over her chest. "I expect payment for my services."

Faith knocked Lilah down to the floor in a flash. She knelt beside the woman, her left hand wrapped tightly around Lilah's throat as she held her to the ground. Lilah gasped for air as she clawed at Faith's arm. Faith did not budge as Lilah's perfectly manicured nails dug into her skin and drew blood. She held her stance, her eyes dark with rage.

She leaned close to Lilah as she replied, "You think you're one evil bitch, don't you? Babe, you haven't seen evil until you've fucked with me."

Lilah continued to gasp for air as Faith's grip on her windpipe never loosened. She could feel her lungs begin to burn, to scream for oxygen. She fought the urge to slip into unconsciousness. If she slipped, there would be no returning. She knew that Faith would make sure of it.

Faith loosened her grip only slightly as she saw Lilah's eyes begin to roll up into her head.

"Where's the antidote?" she snarled.

"Like I'm going to tell you," Lilah gasped, a slight smirk on her face.

Faith chuckled quietly. She laid down her crossbow and removed the arrow with her free hand. She pressed the point of the arrow into Lilah's cheek. Blood began to trickle from the dimpled spot.

Lilah grimaced at the sensation but did not scream. She would not give Faith the upper hand.

"Where is it?" Faith barked, tightening her grip on Lilah's throat again.

Lilah did not respond and continued to smirk defiantly at Faith.

Faith frowned. She slowly drug the point of the arrow down Lilah's cheek, ripping her flesh and spilling her blood on the clean carpet.

Lilah finally gave in and screamed. Under Faith's pressure, it only came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Is it in the office?" Faith asked, her voice so calm that it frightened Lilah.

Faith watched her for a moment and raised an eyebrow. She sneered down at her. "Of course it is. You're just dumb enough to think no one would ever look here."

"You realize," Lilah whispered, tears of pain running down the sides of her face, "that you've just sealed your fate. You could have helped us, and we could have helped you. But now, Wolfram and Hart will be after you 'til the day you die."

"I'm a Slayer. My fate was already sealed," Faith growled.

Faith slammed the back of Lilah's head onto the floor, knocking her out.

**********

"Let's go," Angel said, grabbing his leather duster. He pulled it on as he and the others made their way towards the front of the hotel.

They needed to get to Faith before she did something rash, something stupid. Something deadly….

Angel's thoughts froze as the hotel door swung open and Faith emerged from the dark of the night.

"Faith!" he said, shocked by her sudden appearance. 

"We were just about to come rescue you," Fred stated matter-a-factly from over his shoulder.

"Huh," she frowned. "Thank God I didn't _need_ rescuing, or I'd be dead."

She approached them, handing Fred the small vial of purple liquid. "Here's the antidote."

As she handed the vial over, Angel caught a glimpse of the blood on her right hand. 

"Faith?" he asked cautiously.

She turned to him, her eyes bloodshot and tired.

"You didn't… I mean, Lilah is still…?"

"She'll be okay after some stitches and some morphine," she replied darkly.

Angel felt a sense of relief wash over him. He wanted Lilah as dead as the next person, but he didn't want Faith to be the bringer of death again. She couldn't stray from her path of redemption. If she did, there would be no hope for her.

"Well, are you all just going to stand around with your thumbs up your asses?" Faith fumed, looking at each of them. "_I_ did the hard part. Now, bring Wes back."

Before anyone could respond, she walked upstairs to be at Wesley's bedside.


	11. The Path to Amends-- Chapter 6

Wesley stared at his pale reflection as he slowly ran a hand through his tousled hair.

The past two days were a blur to him. He remembered standing in his kitchen when he was overwhelmed by dizziness that brought him to the floor. From that point on, he had drifted in and out of consciousness. Last night, he had finally returned from wherever he had been.

Faith had been the first to greet him with her own brand of heartfelt sentiment—"You try to die on me again, and I will kill you my damn self."

Wesley would have laughed if his whole body hadn't felt like it had been dropped repeatedly onto a slab of concrete.

It didn't take him long to realize that he was not in his own bed. He was in the hotel.

"How did I get here?" he asked, his voice raspy and his throat dry.

"You teleported," the girl smirked. "How do ya think?"

"You brought me here?"

"Not like I had much of a choice."

"Faith, what happened?"

"Your favorite lawyer is what happened," she frowned. "Apparently those vamps that attacked us the other night were working with her. They injected you with some kind of demon poison. Knocked you right on your ass."

"Yes, that's quite obvious," he said as he attempted to sit up. The pounding in his head only intensified so he laid back down with a heavy sigh. He waited a moment before asking, "And they helped you?"

Faith shrugged. "Grudgingly, yeah. If it had been up to Angel, you'd already be dead. Cordelia and Fred were the ones mainly, and that green guy." She paused with a frown. "What the hell _is_ he anyway?"

Wesley chuckled quietly, ignoring the pain that surged up in him as he did so.

Faith's frown turned to a smile as she said, "You're probably thirsty. I'll see if I can find some tea in this place."

She took his hand and squeezed it gently before leaving him alone in the room.

Now, as he stood and looked around the room, he found himself amazed that he was alive, in small thanks to the people who had disowned him for so long.

A knock at his door brought him from his thoughts.

"You decent?" Faith asked as she slowly pushed the door open.

"About as decent as I'll ever be," he called back.

Faith entered the room, a slight smile on her lips. "It's good to see you up and about."

"It _feels_ good to be up and about."

Faith waited a moment, crossing her arms, before asking, "You ready to get the hell out of here?"

"Yes, it'll be nice to sleep in my own bed for once."

"Hey, you think that bed is uncomfortable, try curling up in that chair." She jerked her thumb towards the large chair that had been pulled up to his bedside.

Wesley smiled. He glanced over at the chair before turning his eyes to Faith's. "Thank you, Faith."

"For what?"

"For saving my life."

"It was the least I could do," she shrugged. "Besides, who would pay the rent?"

"Gee, thanks," he grinned. His grin softened. "Seriously, Faith, I never meant for you to get involved in this whole thing between Lilah and myself."

"Don't worry about it." She paused with a sigh. "So, are you coming or what?" 

Wesley smiled as he followed her out of the room.

**********

"I just… I wanted to thank you guys," Wesley replied as he and Faith stood in the lobby. Cordelia, Fred, and Gunn stood across from them.

"We were just doing our job, Wesley," Cordelia replied, her voice void of any emotion.

"Yeah, be expecting a bill," Gunn grumbled from over her shoulder.

Fred nudged him hard with her elbow, and he shrugged back at her.

"You would do the same for any of us," Fred replied.

"Yes, well…." He hesitated as he cleared his throat. Beside him, Faith impatiently tapped her foot. "Well, take care of yourselves."

He and Faith walked out of the hotel without saying another word.

"You too, Wes," Cordelia said quietly to his retreating back. 

**********

Faith shoved the last of her belongings into the duffel bag, frowning.

She had to leave. The longer she stayed, the more she realized she _couldn't_ stay. Trouble followed her everywhere she went. It was just the way her life worked. And now, she had brought the trouble to Wesley, nearly killing him in the process.

She had to leave. She needed to leave, for his sake.

Determined, she stepped out of her bedroom, slowly pulling the door closed. She crept down the darkened hallway, taking only a moment to glance back at Wesley's closed bedroom door.

He'll understand, she thought to herself. He'll have to.

Faith turned the doorknob slowly and gently pulled the apartment door open, listening to the drawn out squeak of the hinges.

"Faith?"

She frowned and turned.

Wesley stood across from her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his slacks. "Faith, what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," she replied bluntly, tugging at the strap of her duffel bag.

"I can see that," Wesley said casually. "My question is why."

"Because… because it's what I do. You stay in one place too long, and you get in trouble."

"May I ask where you plan to stay?"

"I'll find a place. I always do."

"Faith…."

"Look," she said abruptly. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, okay? The place to crash, the job, everything. But I can't stay."

Wesley remained silent.

"If I stay here, I'll just cause us both more trouble than I'm worth."

"My life was less than perfect before you moved in, Faith."

"Wes, I'm going. We can either make this short and simple or we can drag it out, but I'm going."

Faith turned, grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door open. 

The door stopped halfway. Faith frowned and looked up at Wesley's hand, which held the door back gently against her force.

He spoke softly to her as he leaned in close. "Faith, I understand that it is in your nature to distance yourself from people. You believe that by doing so that you can protect yourself from imminent pain and heartbreak. I understand that, I do. But you can't live like that. You have to let people in sometimes."

"I don't need you psychoanalyzing me," she grumbled, her gaze focused on the door. "I need you to get the hell out of the way."

Wesley ignored her threat. "Sometimes, you have to break down the walls. If not, you'll end up dying bitter and alone."

Faith looked down at her hand which held firm to the doorknob. "I'm not afraid to die alone."

"I wasn't either… until I almost did. There's nothing like bleeding to death in a park that makes you rethink some things." He sighed, his breath warm on her neck. "Trust me on this, Faith. You need an ally as much as I do."

"I don't need an ally," she replied, her grip on the doorknob tightening. "All I need is me."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"I don't have to believe it. I know it."

"Then why aren't you leaving right this very moment?"

Faith glanced at him over her shoulder, "Gee, I don't know. Could it be because your hand is on the door?"

"Faith, you're ten times stronger than I am. If you wanted this door opened, it would be open. I wouldn't be able to stop you."

After a moment, the door closed completely, the doorknob clicking back into place.

Faith turned to Wesley, her back resting against the door. Wesley's hand held firm on the door as he hovered in front of her.

"So, where does this leave us?"

Wesley shrugged slightly, a faint smile on his face. "It leaves us right here, Faith."

Faith smiled despite herself as she reached behind her back and turned the deadbolt lock into place.


	12. The Path to Amends-- Chapter 7

***Author's Note: There are not enough words to thank Kel for beta-ing this for me! You rock, girl! And there's not enough to thank you guys for your awesome feedback!! My muse and I are off to prepare for our nine-hour move so hopefully we'll be back to writing in the next few weeks! Thanks again, guys!***

***Rated PG-13 (?) for slight sexual situations.***

**********

Cordelia walked down the staircase, listening to the sound of Angel pummeling his punching bag. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and crossed her arms over her chest. Angel's back was to her as he continued to pound into the bag.

He hit the bag with a right hook and took a step back, breathing hard.

"What is it, Cordy?" he asked as he watched the bag swing back and forth.

"I've been thinking, Angel, and I want you to hear me out before you say no."

Angel turned to her, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. "No, Cordelia."

Cordelia dropped her arms with a sigh. "You don't even know what I'm gonna ask."

"I know _you_, Cordy. Whatever it is, it involves Wesley, and the answer is no."

"Angel," she sighed, sitting on the bottom stair. "Wesley has made a huge mistake. I'm not even going to argue with that, but he has a chance to redeem himself. He's always been the brains of the operation, you know."

Angel remained silent, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's our best bet at finding Connor. You know that as well as I do."

"We don't need him in order to find my son."

"Angel, I'm not saying that you have to forgive him for what he's done. I'm not even saying you have to talk to him. I'm just saying that we worked better as a team. We each brought something to the unit, and with Wesley gone, we're missing a critical piece of the puzzle."

"And you expect me to agree to this?"

"No, I expect you to understand where I'm coming from," she replied, slowly getting to her feet.

Angel nodded and turned back towards his punching bag. "I can't stop you, Cordy. I've learned that over the years. So, do what you think you have to do."

He took another swing at the punching bag. Cordelia watched him for a moment longer before returning upstairs.

**********

Wesley turned over in his bed with a groan. He opened his eyes to find the spot on his mattress that Faith had occupied the night before empty. Sighing, Wesley sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. He slowly removed himself from the bed, searching for his clothes. He found his boxers and T-shirt at the foot of the bed where they had been hastily discarded the night before.

As he pulled his shirt on over his head, he deeply inhaled the scent of her on his clothes.

He slowly made his way to the kitchen, his mind drifting back to thoughts of her. He wondered when she had escaped. Had she run away as soon as he had dozed off? Or had she waited for the new morning to begin before she ran off, never to be heard from again?

Wesley stopped in the kitchen doorway as he saw Faith standing at the counter, fixing herself a cup of coffee. Her hair still had the just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and apparently, she had searched through Wesley's closet and found one of his pinstriped button-down shirts to wear around the house.

Wesley couldn't help but smile. 

Faith turned to him, a slight smile on her face. "Morning."

"Morning," he replied quietly.

Faith watched him for a moment before taking a sip from her drink. She frowned and added another spoonful of sugar to the mug. As he continued to watch her every movement in silence, she asked curiously, "What? Have I grown a second head or something?"

"No," he laughed gently. "I'm just amazed. I thought you had…." 

"What?" she asked, looking him over. "Run off?"

She smirked as Wesley shrugged slightly in response. 

"Just not a cuddler," she admitted before turning back to the coffee machine. "So, what'll it be—tea or coffee?"

"Well, you're quite nonchalant considering what happened between us last night."

"We had sex, Wes." She poured another spoonful of sugar into her mug and stirred. She smiled at him and sipped from her mug. "It was amazing, but it was just sex, you know. Nothing to get all excited about."

Wesley approached her, a slight smirk on his face. "Faith, are you doing that distancing-yourself-for-your-own-good thing again?"

"Depends," she replied as she placed her mug back on the counter. "Is it working?"

Wesley smiled at her. He tenderly brushed her hair away from the side of her face, gently rubbing his thumb against her temple. He leaned over, his lips softly brushing against hers.

"You tell me," he whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her slender waist and pulled her close to him. He kissed her gently, savoring the bittersweet taste of her lips. Faith pulled away long enough to take his bottom lip gently in her teeth and pull softly. She released his lip with a playful smile and kissed him passionately, her hands roaming through his hair.

Their breathing in rhythm, Wesley gently trailed his kisses down her neck. Faith gasped as Wesley's mouth found her earlobe and playfully nibbled on it.

Faith ran her hands up his T-shirt, her fingers skipping up his heaving torso. He grunted, the vibration traveling through her fingers, as he cupped her behind and pulled her even closer to his hardness.

Faith's hands slid back down his torso and stopped at his hips, her fingers rubbing against the inner elastic of his boxers.

"Wesley," she sighed as he continued to nibble at her neck.

He simply grunted in response.

"Wes," she gasped as his hands traveled underneath her soft cotton panties. "Wes, someone… someone is knocking on the apartment door…."

Wesley kissed her shoulder and sighed. "They have impeccable timing, don't they?"

Faith gently cupped Wesley's face in her hands and smiled. "Oh but we'll definitely pick up where we left off." She kissed him firmly. "You can count on it."

Wesley snuck in another quick kiss before she pulled from his embrace. 

"You take a moment to cool down, and I'll get the door." She winked at him before stepping out of the kitchen.

When Faith opened the door, Cordelia greeted her from the other side.

"Hi, Faith," she said, looking Faith over.

"Hey."

"Is Wesley in?"

Faith looked at her for a moment before turning on her heels. "Wes, you got company!" she called over her shoulder as she strolled down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Cordelia lingered in the hallway for a moment before stepping into the apartment. She slowly closed the apartment door as Wesley stepped out of the kitchen.

He ran a hand through his hair before casually crossing his arms. "Hello, Cordelia."

Cordelia smiled slightly. "Hi, Wes. I need to talk to you."

"About?"

"About how we've all had our time to stew and be bitter, but now it's time to move past all that crap."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "It is?"

Cordelia frowned. "Don't even try to play dumb, Wesley. You and I both know that we all worked better as one unified team, not two fractured units."

"We'll never be a team again, Cordelia. You realize that, right?"

"No, what I _realize_ is that we can't keep holding grudges against each other. We could hold grudges until the day we die…." She paused with a slight roll of her eyes. "Well, at least some of us. But the point is, Wes, that we have to move on. We have to get past this. I don't want to spend the rest of my life hating you. As much as I hate to admit it, Wesley, you're one of my best friends."

A smile finally formed on Wesley's lips.

"So, we can either keep on with the grudges, or we can be mature people and deal with each other like adults."

Wesley nodded. "And Angel?"

Cordelia's smile softened as she shrugged. "He'll come around. You'll just have to give him time… and _lots_ of space." Her perky smile returned as she asked, "So, does this mean Angel Investigations is back to all of its original members?"

"Plus one," Wesley replied as Faith strolled towards them, fully dressed. He clasped fingers with her momentarily as she passed them and entered the kitchen.

"The more, the merrier, I suppose."

"Good."

"Good," Cordelia replied with a nod. 

They stood in silence for a moment before Cordelia smiled gently and said, "Welcome back, Wes."

"It's good to be back, Cordy," he smiled.

Cordelia nodded once more before turning and opening the apartment door. "Bye, Faith!" she called over her shoulder.

"Later!" Faith's voice came from within the kitchen.

"See you Monday morning?" Cordelia asked as she stepped into the hallway.

"See you Monday."

Back to square one, Cordelia thought to herself as she grinned happily and pulled the apartment door closed.

Wesley laughed quietly to himself. He walked back into the kitchen where Faith was searching through his cabinets.

"Would it kill you to have like crackers or anything?" she complained as she continued her search.

"You ate them all the other day, remember?" he chuckled.

Faith turned to him with a smirk. "Forgot." She leaned against the counter as she asked, "So, is this the end of Rogue Investigations?"

Wesley walked up to her. He stood beside her, crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter. "Professionally, I suppose it is. Of course, we could always continue our after-hours activities."

Faith smiled and bumped him with her hip. "British or not, you're still such a guy." 

Wesley smiled crookedly at her as she sighed.

"So, feel good to be back in your little dysfunctional family?" she asked.

Wesley nodded, inhaling deeply. "Yes." He gave her a sideways glance as he added, "But it feels better to be here with you."

Faith groaned and rolled her eyes. She stepped away from the counter with a chuckle. "Wes, man, you say stuff like that again, and we will _never_ finish what we started earlier."

"Duly noted." He smiled as she strolled out of the kitchen, laughing quietly.

Wesley watched her disappear before turning to the coffeemaker.

It definitely feels better, he smiled to himself.


	13. Coming to Amends

Third Chapter: Coming to Amends

Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG/PG-13

Disclaimer: Disclaimers? I don't need no stinkin' disclaimers! (But to be safe, no own. No sue.)

Spoilers: All of Season 3 AtS.

Distribution: Feel free. Just tell me where.

Feedback: "Hello, my name is Tonya, and I am a feedback-aholic."

Summary: With the Angel Investigations team functioning as one again, the search for Connor gets closer than ever. 

Author's Note: As if you didn't know by now, this is an AU fic. Pretty much, everything has happened _besides_ Connor coming through the portal at the end of "The Price" which negates all of "Tomorrow".

**********

The hotel stood before him, much larger than he remembered it being. Wesley watched it silently, his mind reeling.

Why had he come back? That question kept haunting him. Every moment the wheels in his mind would stop spinning, that question would creep back. Why?

He had formed a new life after Angel Investigations. A new life that had worked for him. He had had a source of income, and he had still been able to help the helpless in the process. And he had found someone who wouldn't abandon him. He had found a partner, a confidant, and a lover in the last woman he ever thought he would.

Why come back?

"Wes," Faith huffed from his side. "Do you plan to stay out here and get a tan all day or what?"

He glanced over at her, a slight frown forming on his lips. "I guess we should proceed, shouldn't we?"

"You're doing it again," she smirked.

"What?"

"Wes, man, you have got to make the decision. It's now or never. Do you really want to be back here or not?"

Wesley hesitated, turning his eyes back to the hotel door. "If I say no?"  


Faith crossed her arms over her chest in response. "Well, first, I'd beat you within an inch of your life for getting me up this early for nothing." She paused with a shrug. "And _then_, I'd help you print up some new Rogue Investigations fliers."

He turned to her with a smile. "And if I say yes?"

"I'd do what I planned on doing anyway. I'll walk in with ya. Someone's gotta have your back."

"And I'm glad it's you," he replied before leaning in and gently kissing her on the lips.

Faith pulled away and rolled her eyes at him. "So, what's your decision?"

His frown returned as Wesley's gaze trailed back to the door. He gripped the handle of his leather messenger bag tightly and sighed.

**********

"Think he'll actually have the guts to show?" Gunn asked, leaning against the file cabinet.

Fred knelt as she pulled out the drawer marked "Ta-Ty", searching for a recent case that had taken their minds off the Connor-issue for a moment. She thumbed through the files as she replied, "Cordelia thinks he will. She really thinks we might be back to square one."

"Not to be the rain on your parade, babe, but square one is non-existent with us."

Fred retrieved the "Taylor" file with a triumphant smile. She pushed the drawer closed and turned her full attention to Gunn. "Well, not to be the…." She paused as her clever analogy slipped away. "The… _sun _on your rain, but anything is possible."

Gunn raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm a big believer of possibilities. I'm _not_ a big believer of _this_."

"What?"

"Acting like nothing has happened, like everything is back to normal. Like he didn't stab us all in the back."

"We're not acting like nothing's happened. We just think it's time to start rebuilding, you know."

Gunn shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "He stole Angel's kid, Fred."

"I know," she sighed. She held the manila folder tight to her chest as Gunn continued to stare at her.

"He lied to all of us."

"I know."

"And still you forgive him?"

Fred shrugged slightly. "I don't know if I would call it forgiving. Understanding, yeah." She paused, tilting her head. "You and Wesley used to be best friends."

"Used to be," Gunn frowned. "Things change. _People _change."

"And they change back," Fred countered.

"Come on, Fred, you really gonna tell me you believe that?"

"I do," Cordelia answered.

Gunn and Fred turned towards the sound of her voice. 

Cordelia stood in the doorway, her hands casually placed in the pockets of her jeans. "What's going on, guys?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Nothing," Gunn frowned.

"Yeah, nothing," Fred agreed.

Cordelia studied them for a moment. Her eyes fell on Gunn's as she asked, "You mean nothing _besides_ the fact that you think I'm making a mistake?"

"Depends," Gunn replied. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," she shrugged.

"I know I'm not the only one who thinks this is insane," he countered. "I mean, Angel must be going ballistic."

"He may not be thrilled, but he's far from ballistic, Gunn. He'll come around sooner or later."

Gunn simply scoffed in response.

"Look," Cordelia sighed, "I'll tell you what I told Angel. I don't expect you to forgive Wesley. I _expect_ you to at least tolerate him, for Connor's sake. As much as everyone hates to admit it, we need Wes. If anyone can help us find Connor, it's him. I'm not asking for your kidney here, Gunn. All I'm asking for is a little toleration."

Gunn sighed as Cordelia and Fred watched him intently. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he sighed and threw down his arms. "Fine. I'll tolerate the bastard, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Thank you," Cordelia said with a smile as Fred kissed him on the cheek in appreciation.

Gunn grumbled in response.

The sound of the hotel door swinging open echoed through the lobby.

"They're here," Cordelia declared with a smile.

"They? What _they_?" Gunn raised an eyebrow.

"Wesley and Faith."

"Whoa!" Gunn replied, taking a step away from the file cabinet. "Hold up! I said I'd tolerate Wes. I never said I'd tolerate his little friend."

Cordelia shrugged slightly. "It was a package deal. He wouldn't come back if she didn't come along."

"Unbelievable," he huffed.

Cordelia rolled her eyes at him, and she and Fred started out of the office and towards the lobby. Gunn remained behind, fuming silently to himself.

"You never said anything about Faith," Fred whispered as she and Cordelia walked away.

"I'm not thrilled about it either," she whispered back, "but it was the only way to get Wesley to agree."

Cordelia smiled brightly and Fred attempted to do the same as they approached Wesley and Faith, who stood patiently in the lobby.

"Hi, guys," Cordelia greeted.

"Cordelia, Fred," Wesley said. Faith remained silent.

"So, I guess we should get down to business, huh?" she replied. "Connor's been our major case for obvious reasons. We have a few other cases pending. Fred can tell you about those, Faith, while I get Wes up to speed on the Connor stuff."

Wesley followed Cordelia over to her desk, leaving Fred and Faith alone in their silence.

Fred's bright smile began to fade as she held the manila folder close to her chest. Faith glanced around the lobby for a moment before finally turning her gaze back to Fred.

"Yeah, this should be tons of fun," she smirked as she looked Fred over.


	14. Coming to Amends-- Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks guys for being so patient! The move went well, and my muse and I are finally getting settled in so I'll try to get more parts out as I go. Thanks again for the feedback! You all know how to please a fanfic writer. :-)

**********

"I was hoping you would be able to translate some of these journals that are in demon languages." Cordelia reached onto the bookcase and pulled a large, leather-bound tome. She handed the book to Wesley, dusting off the cover slightly with her hand.

Wesley frowned as he took the book from her hands. "Translation," he mumbled quietly to himself as he flipped the tome open.

Cordelia turned her attention to him and frowned. "Wesley?" 

He looked up at her and cleared his throat. "Cordelia, I don't think… I don't feel quite right translating more texts…."

Cordelia smiled reassuringly, understanding. "Wes, you translated the text right. The prophecy itself was fake, but _you_ were right."

Wesley remained silent.

"Look, you're the only one who can do this. You're our expert on demon languages. We can't do this without you."

Wesley nodded, his confidence slowly returning. "Shall we get started then?"

Cordelia smiled widely.

**********

Angel lingered in the doorway to the basement, listening to the sounds of the hotel around him.

He could hear each voice as clear as crystal. Fred's drawl. Gunn's determination. Cordelia's sweetness. Faith's energy. And the one that stood out the most amongst them all….

That accent he had come to hate. 

He had known that Cordelia would welcome the traitor back. After his last conversation with her, it had been evident that she was willing to forgive Wesley's transgressions. She had tried to justify her decision by saying that it would be for Connor's sake, that Wesley would be able to find answers where they could not.

They didn't need that man back in order to find his son. His son's blood was already on that man's hands, and he would not trust him again. No matter how much everyone else seemed to.

Trust had to be earned and Wesley would never earn his trust again. Never again.

Angel listened for a moment longer before starting back down into the darkness of the basement.

**********

"The Taylor case is our most recent," Fred explained as she handed the file to Faith. 

Gunn sat behind Angel's desk, silent, as Fred leaned against the edge. The file in her hand, Faith made her way to the closed office door and leaned against it.

"So what kind of demon are we talking about?" Faith asked.

Fred hesitated as she tapped her finger against the smooth wood of the desk. "Well, actually there's no demon… _yet_."

Faith raised an eyebrow at her. "Yet?"

"It's a missing person case," Gunn informed her.

"Missing person?" she sighed. "I thought you guys worked on the cool, paranormal cases."

"We help the helpless," Fred countered. "Paranormal case or not."

Faith stared at each of them for a moment before turning her gaze back to the file in her hands. "Wow, you guys deserve a medal," she sneered.

"We're in this to help people," Fred replied with a disapproving frown. "If you hate it so much, why do you even do it?"

"Because I'm a Slayer," she said firmly as she continued to read the case file. "Save the day. Stop the world from ending. Try to _not_ die. It's kinda what we do."

Gunn gave an irritated sigh as he stood. "Big deal. I've heard the stories. You're not the first one, and you won't be the last."

Faith slowly turned her eyes to him. "You don't know a damn thing."

"I know you're a lot of talk," he countered.

Faith gently closed the manila folder and smirked. "Wow, this coming from the king of big talk."

Fred sighed. "Look, guys, fighting isn't going to get us anywhere." She turned to Gunn as she rolled her eyes in annoyance. "She obviously doesn't want to help us so we'll just do this ourselves."

"Hey, Southern Belle," Faith frowned, "You don't speak for me, okay?"

"Hey! Leave her out of this," Gunn ordered.

Faith nodded and tossed the folder onto a nearby chair. "You know, _Gunn_, you've been jonesin' for a piece of me from the moment we first met. I don't know why…."

"Maybe because you keep comin' at us with this holier-than-thou bullshit. Like we're supposed to bow down to you because you're a Slayer."

"No, you should bow down to me because I can kick your ass," she growled. She laughed knowingly as she continued, "I get it now. _You _just have a problem with strong women. You just can't handle the fact that I could wipe the floor with your ass if I wanted to."

Gunn crossed his arms defiantly. "Try it."

Faith smirked in response. "Why? So after I bust your ass, your little girlfriend here can kiss your boo-boos and make 'em better? Not worth my time or energy, pal."

Gunn and Faith stared at each other, neither backing down.

"Can I just say something?" Fred sighed. "Does anyone else see how silly this is? Can't we all just act like adults for once? I mean, we don't have to like each other, and it's quite obvious that we don't and we never will. But we could still work together without _busting_ anyone's ass. So, what is it, guys? Can we work together, or are we just doomed here?"

Faith and Gunn simply looked at her.

**********

"And you're sure the portal was closed?" Wesley asked as he sat down across from Cordelia at her desk.

"Pretty sure," she replied, sitting back in her chair. "Mistress Meerna said she closed it."

"She closed _that_ portal?" Wesley asked as he motioned towards the lobby.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I'm just left with the horrible nagging feeling that perhaps more than one portal may have been opened as Angel cast his spell," he explained. "As we speak, there could still be some portal open somewhere that is connecting our reality with some hell dimension."

Cordelia frowned at that idea. "How likely?"

Wesley returned her frown. "_Very _likely."

Before she could respond, Faith interrupted their conversation.

"I'm out," Faith proclaimed as she walked out of the office and past the desk.

Wesley nearly tipped over his chair in order to catch up with the woman. "Faith?"

He finally caught her as she made her way towards the hotel door. Cordelia watched from her desk as Gunn and Fred lingered in the office doorway. 

Wesley took a gentle hold of Faith's arm and turned her to face him.

"Faith, where are you going?"

"Out," she sighed.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

Faith stared at him for a moment, hesitating. "Look, Wes, this is your thing, you know. You wanted to come back, and I was all for it. But I can't hang. I need to be out doing stuff. I mean, missing people and research? Not my area. I can't just sit around with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum over there and wait for clues to fall into my lap."

"But isn't that the same thing we did when _we_ were a team?" he asked, confused. "How is this any different?"

"Because I like _you_," she replied with a slight smirk. "These people can bite my ass for all I care."

"Faith." Wesley tried his best to sound disapproving, but the faint smile on his lips betrayed him.

"Seriously, Wes…." She pulled him closer and whispered, "Don't get your hopes up. They may be welcoming you back _now_ with open arms, but what happens when they get the kid back?"

Her words echoed in Wesley's mind as she kissed his cheek quickly.

"Where are you going?" he asked again as she began to pull away, his grip on her arm trailing towards her fingers as she continued to step away.

"Just out. I'll see ya at home." She smiled as their fingers brushed across each other. "You can trust me."

Wesley smiled back as she slipped through the hotel door.

**********

Cordelia sat at her desk, watching Wesley and Faith by the doorway.

She couldn't stop the frown that was forming on her face. 

When she had first realized that Wesley was befriending a woman who had tried to kill them all on numerous occasions, there hadn't been enough words to describe her anger. How could he so willingly let her back into his life? She had tied him to a chair and tortured him for hours, for pleasure, and yet he was still willing to forgive. 

Cordelia just couldn't wrap her mind around it. She had even asked him why, just so she could know where to start.

__

I have forgiven Faith for her mistakes.

At the time, it had been a painful jab at Cordelia, the guilt trip of all guilt trips. The words had dripped with bitterness as he compared himself and his willingness to forgive to Cordelia and her own. Now, it seemed that those words had been more than true. He _had_ forgiven Faith. For some reason truly beyond her, Wesley had become best friends with Faith.

Her frown only deepened as she realized what a hypocrite she was being. Had she not just lectured Gunn on tolerating Wesley? Why couldn't she take her own advice when it came to Faith?

Her thoughts froze as she witnessed Faith actually kiss Wesley on the cheek.

Cordelia grabbed the edge of her desk to keep from falling out of her chair.

"Huh," she managed to mumble to herself.

She watched Faith and Wesley exchange smiles before Faith slipped out the hotel door.

Apparently, she thought, Wesley has become _more _than best friends with Faith….

**********

Gunn and Fred made their way over to Cordelia's desk as Wesley approached.

"Where she going?" Fred asked.

"Out," he replied as he returned to his seat across from Cordelia. "She needed to burn some energy. Slayers are like that."

Gunn leaned against the lobby counter, arms crossed over his chest. "If you ask me, pent-up energy is the least of her problems."

"No one _did_ ask you," Wesley replied firmly, gazing up to meet Gunn's eyes.

The two men continued to stare each other down until Cordelia pulled Wesley's attention back to her. "Wes, what about this portal thing? I mean, do you think that there could be another one?"

Wesley sighed. "According to what you've told me, Angel used a lot of dark majicks to try to re-open the Quartoth portal. With that kind of immense, uncontrollable power anything is possible."

"And if there is another open portal?" Fred asked.

"Well, our first objective would be to close it," he replied. "We can't take the chance of having some hell dimension with a free pass to our world whenever it pleases. And after we close it, we can analyze the spell that could have caused its opening. Maybe we could even find a way to open another Quartoth portal and get Connor back."

"Have I mention how much I hate portals?" Fred sighed.

Gunn reached his arm out and brought Fred closer to him. She leaned against him as he soothingly rubbed her arm.

"I think we all share that hate, babe," he replied softly, squeezing her gently before removing his arm.

"So where do we start?" Cordelia asked Wesley.

Wesley turned to Gunn and Fred as he replied, "You two, find Mistress Meerna. See if she can tell us if there's another portal open somewhere. Hopefully, she'll be able to sense it."

"Problem," Gunn replied with a raise of his hand. "Lorne's the one who tracked her down."

"Then find Lorne, and _then_ find her," Wesley said tersely.

Gunn tensed at the order, but he inhaled deeply and took a hold of Fred's hand. "We're on it," he said as he gently pulled Fred away.

When they were gone, Wesley turned back to Cordelia, his demeanor softened. "Cordelia, could you look into finding out exactly what kind of spell Angel cast?"

She nodded. "Sure. What are you going to do?"

"Well," he sighed. "I'm going to continue to translate this text here on the Quartoth dimension. There may be something helpful here. And I'm also going to see if I can find a locator spell. I doubt it would cross dimensions, but there's no harm in trying, right?"

"No, there's not," Cordelia replied as she stood. "I'll go see if Angel can remember what spell it was."

Wesley nodded and turned his gaze back to portal book open on the desk as she walked away.

Cordelia stopped at the counter and knocked on it lightly with her fist. Wesley looked up to acknowledge her, and she smiled at him. "It's good to have you back, Wesley."

Wesley hesitated for a moment, and then returned her smile. Satisfied, Cordelia started towards the basement to find Angel.

Alone, Wesley's smile faded. He watched Cordelia disappear down the hallway, and Faith's words echoed in his head.

__

What happens when they get the kid back?

Wesley wanted to believe that they were all trying to make amends with one another. He wanted to believe that they were all truly trying to come back together as a team. But Faith's words hung at the back of his mind. And her words wouldn't have had such an effect on him if he hadn't been thinking it himself. He would never admit it, but in the back of his mind, he had been wondering. What if all the smiles, all the talks about forgiving and moving on were just a façade? What if they _were_ simply using him to get Connor back?

Would they really do that?

Wesley sighed and focused his attention back to the journal. 

It didn't matter now. He needed to find Connor as badly as they did. That was his goal right now. He couldn't waste time worrying about possible ulterior motives. He would help them find Connor, and he would deal with the consequences later.


	15. Coming to Amends-- Chapter 3

"What can I get ya?"

Faith stared at the diner menu, biting her lower lip. She sighed heavily as she made her decision and handed the menu back to the middle-aged waitress. "The Western omelet with extra green peppers and the hash browns."

The woman jotted down the order and smiled down at Faith as she asked, "Refill on your coffee, honey?"

Faith shook her head and smiled in appreciation. "No, thanks. I'm cool for now."

"Your order will be up in no time," she said before disappearing back towards the kitchen.

Faith frowned. Alone with her thoughts, the guilt began to sink in.

She had promised Wes that she would have his back no matter what, but here she was ordering brunch in a diner across town. 

"I said I'd walk in," she tried to rationalize to herself as she stirred a package of sugar into her mug. "I never said I would stick around."

There was no way in hell she would have been able to stick around. Besides the fact that she would have ended up putting Gunn in the ICU before the day's end, the whole setup reminded her too much of Sunnydale. Of the Scoobies. Of how she was a part of the team, but at the same time, she was nothing but an outsider.

All the key players were there in the hotel. Wes was the Giles of the group-- the leader, the researcher, the intelligence behind the operations. Fred was Willow-- the smart female sidekick. What Wes couldn't do, she could. Gunn would be the Xander of the group… if Xander was a complete asshole. Angel's role in the group remained unchanged, but somehow Cordelia had turned from the expendable extra to the strong female leader, the second-in-command. The Buffy. All Cordelia needed was superhuman strength, and there would be no need for Faith at all….

Faith sipped angrily from her cooling coffee.

How did she keep getting herself in these situations? Why was it that every time she found a place to fit in, it seemed like there was no room for her after all?

She had liked it when it had been just her and Wes. Two outcasts brought together. The dynamic had worked. She had bonded with him in a way that she never thought she would with anyone. Unlike everyone else she knew, she could actually say she trusted him and _mean _it. 

When Cordelia had come to the apartment to ask him to return, Faith had listened from the bedroom. She had listened and hoped that Wes would tell Cordelia to go to hell and slam the door in her face. She had waited for that moment, and to her great disappointment, it never came.

He had declared that he would only return if she was allowed to tag along, and it had given her some hope. He had put them-- their partnership, their relationship-- above everything else, but now Faith was left wondering how long that would last….

Back among his friends, his original family, how soon before he stopped putting their relationship before the others? How soon before Faith found herself pushed to the outskirts again?

I need to keep my trust in you, Wes, she thought to herself.

Faith was pulled from her thoughts as her stomach growled and the waitress approached with her meal.

**********

"Angel?"

"What is it, Cordelia?" he grunted back.

Cordelia stopped at the bottom of the staircase and watched Angel take a swing at his punching bag. 

She smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "That's it?" she asked. "No 'Hey, Cordy, how's your day been going'? Not even a 'what's for lunch, Cordy'?"

Angel sighed and grabbed the punching bag to steady it. He looked at her from around it as he groaned, "Cordelia…."

Her smirk softened and she dropped her arms, dangling her fingers from the belt loops of her khakis. "I'm just saying. It would be nice to have a normal conversation with you again. I miss that, you know. I miss _you_."

Angel held her eyes for a moment before glancing down at the basement floor.

Cordelia continued with a shrug. "I kinda forgot what the _brood_ looked like up-close-and-personal."

"I'm not brooding," he mumbled at the floor.

"Angel, if you were any _broodier_…. Well, I don't even think that's physically possible right now."

"Cordy," he sighed, returning his gaze to her dark eyes. "Is there a point to all of this?"

"I'm just worried about you, Angel," she replied softly. "I just… I wish I could help you get past this."

Angel took a step back from the punching bag. He eyed it for a moment before delivering a powerful right jab. "I don't think I ever will," he grunted.

"And that's not healthy," Cordelia said as she stepped closer to him. "You can't keep this stuff bottled up. I mean, do you plan to stay in the basement pounding the crap out of your punching bag for the rest of your life?"

A left jab sent the bag swinging to the right. 

"Sounds like a plan to me," he said through gritted teeth. 

Frustrated, Cordelia grabbed the punching bag and held it firmly. She locked eyes with Angel as she fumed. "Damn it, Angel, I miss Connor, too, but _this_ isn't going to bring him back."

"And what will?"

"Not giving up. Looking for the answers. What the rest of us, _including _Wesley, are doing. I mean, it's almost like you've given up all hope." She paused, searching his eyes. "Have you?"

He held her stare, silent.

"Angel, if you give up on your own son, you're just as bad as Holtz. You're just sealing his coffin."

"I know," he sighed quietly.

Cordelia nodded, finally releasing her grip on the punching bag. "Then, help me. Help _us_. You can start by telling me where I can find the spell you cast."

"It should be upstairs in the office…." He stopped, quickly glancing over Cordelia's shoulder at the staircase. He looked back at her as he continued. "Um, actually, I'll get it. You wouldn't know where to start looking. Just stay here."

"'Kay," she replied, raising a curious eyebrow.

Angel nodded and started towards the staircase, Cordelia's eyes following him carefully.

**********

He stood back, watching.

He wasn't sure what had possessed him to come upstairs, to come within an arm's length of the traitor. Something in his gut had told him to go, and he never ignored his gut.

Wesley had his back to him as he searched the bookcase with one hand and balanced an open book in the other. So intent in his search, he didn't even notice he had a visitor.

Always the diligent worker, Wesley, Angel frowned. You always have the answers.

Angel thought about all the chances he had had to end the man's life, all the chances that had slipped through his fingers. Angel envied Justine. She had had a chance to experience something he had been contemplating since the night his son was taken away. Evil or not, Angel's dark side had to give the woman credit-- she knew how to do a man in. He would have loved to have been the one to hold the knife to Wesley's throat, to spill his blood on the earth…. To avenge his infant son….

If he wanted, he could snap Wesley's neck now and no one would be able to stop him. Angel hadn't killed for sport in decades, but the predator in him remained. He could be on Wesley before the man even knew what was happening. His spinal cord could be snapped and his vertebrae crushed before he could even open his mouth to scream for help…. Or for mercy….

"Angel, what are you doing?"

He jumped slightly and turned to see Cordelia standing over his shoulder, watching him. The suspicion was emblazoned across her face.

"Huh?" he managed.

"What are you doing?" she repeated. 

She wasn't accusing him of anything, but he could sense it in her body language as she approached him. She knew he had been thinking about something he shouldn't have. She had that ability to read him like that, and at times, it drove him insane.

"I was just coming for the spell," he replied. He glanced over his shoulder to see Wesley watching them.

Cordelia didn't argue but continued to study him. "Okay. Show me where it is."

She led the way to the office, Angel following close behind. As they approached, Wesley gathered his book and returned to Cordelia's desk. As Angel and he passed within inches of each other, the two men shared an uncomfortable glance.

Once in the office, Cordelia waited patiently for Angel to retrieve the spell.

He walked over to his desk and pulled out the very bottom drawer. He sifted through the papers and folders and retrieved an engraved black book from the very bottom. The book was the only one in the hotel that dealt with channeling dark majicks and forces, and Angel had hidden it from the others so that they wouldn't get the idea to hide it from _him_. He flipped through the pages quickly until he caught a glimpse of the fresh paper of the spell against the yellowed pages. He removed the spell and handed it to Cordelia with a frown.

She took it from his hands with an appreciative smile. "Thank you," she said as she read over the text.

Angel moved behind her, the book in his hands, and glanced at the spell from over her shoulder. "I hope you get more luck out of it than I did," he said quietly.

"Angel, we'll have Connor back before you even know it. You can…." She stopped as she glanced over her shoulder to see him gone. "Trust me," she finished with a frown as the sound of the basement door closing echoed through the quiet hotel.

Cordelia sighed angrily as she stepped out of the office.

Wesley looked up at her from his books, and she tried her best to smile triumphantly as she held up the paper.

"Got the spell," she proclaimed as she sat down across from him.

Wesley nodded in acknowledgement. He cleared his throat, hesitating, before asking, "How is he?"

Cordelia sat back in her chair and exhaled deeply. "Sadly, he's better than what he has been."

"So, I shouldn't have a conversation with him anytime soon, huh?"

"Yeah, that would probably be the sane thing to do," she frowned.

Cordelia glanced over her shoulder towards the hallway Angel had disappeared down. "He just needs time," she added softly.

With a frown, Wesley nodded and returned his attention to the texts in front of him. 


	16. Coming to Amends-- Chapter 4

Curled up on the settee in the lobby, Cordelia awoke with a surging pain at the base of her spine that traveled up to the nape of her neck.

She stretched and groaned, gently pushing away the book she had been using as a pillow. The pain in her back diminished, and as she laid sprawled out on the edge of the settee, Cordelia wondered how long she had been out. She had told Wesley that she was only going to shut her eyes for a few minutes, but had those minutes spanned into hours? And if so, was Wesley even there with her anymore?

Before Cordelia could get up to investigate, the hotel door swung open and Faith entered, a small brown bag in her hands.

Without a moment of hesitation, Cordelia closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She laid as still as her body would allow as she felt Faith stroll past her.

"Delivery from the Chicken Palace for Wyndam-Pryce," Faith smiled as she strolled up to the hotel counter.

Wesley stood at Cordelia's desk, a large map of the city spread open before him.

He looked up at her, a slight smile forming on his lips. "Hello, Trouble."

"Decide to burn the midnight oil?" she replied as she stepped around the counter and approached him.

Wesley glanced down at his watch. "Is it that late already?" Noting that it was a quarter after ten, Wesley looked back at Faith apologetically. "I must have lost track of time."

"No biggie. Just came to check up on you…." She paused as she placed the small bag she had been carrying onto the desk. "_And_ bring you some dinner since the assholes around here probably wouldn't give you food if you were dying of starvation."

"That may be a tad bit harsh, Faith."

"I just call 'em as I see 'em."

"Well, I appreciate your perspective, but I do believe they're really trying."

"For your sake, I hope so."

"Me too," he replied quietly.

They stood in silence for a moment before Faith pushed the bag of food to the side and sat down on the edge of the desk. She grabbed Wesley's arm and pulled him towards her. With a devious smile, she locked her legs around his waist and draped her arms over his shoulders.

"So, here's what I was thinking…."

"This could only lead to trouble," Wesley grinned, his hands resting on Faith's hips.

Faith shushed him in response. "Listen, I've got some energy to burn. You could obviously use a break, _and_ it seems we have the hotel all to ourselves."

"But Cordelia is…." He began as he looked towards the lobby.

"Out cold," Faith replied as she gently grabbed his chin and turned his face back towards her. "I passed her on the way in."

"Faith," Wesley sighed, brushing her hair back from her face.

"Wes," she purred back. "Don't even act like you're not tempted."

"Oh, I'm tempted," he smirked. "I'm _very_ tempted, but, Faith, I need to finish what I was doing before I lose my train of thought. Besides, I don't think Cordelia would care for us… _marking_ her desk."

"Fine," she sighed with a roll of her eyes. "I can't believe you actually had the balls to turn me down."

Wesley chuckled quietly. "I'll probably regret my decision as soon as you leave."

"Most definitely," she smirked.

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Maybe we could pick this up later tonight when I get home."

Faith laughed quietly, placing her hands on Wesley's chest. "Would you like that?"

"It would be nice," he smiled.

Faith smiled and leaned in close, her lips brushing against his. "Then no," she purred before gently pushing him away.

"That wasn't quite what I was expecting," he replied with a smirk.

Faith removed herself from the desk, grinning deviously. "I'm full of surprises."

"As well I know."

"I'd eat that chicken sandwich before it gets cold if I was you," she advised as she motioned to the bag. "I'm gonna go patrol for a while so I'll see ya at home."

"If you stick around for about another twenty minutes, I'll be done, and then I could go with you. No point in you patrolling alone."

"No, it's cool. Stay here. You've got a kid to find." She smiled at him and turned to leave.

Wesley grabbed her arm gently and pulled her to him, kissing her. "Be careful," he said as he pulled way.

"I always am," she replied. She winked at him before turning and walking out of the hotel.

Wesley sighed and turned back to the desk.

***********

"Hey."

Wesley jumped at the sound of Cordelia's voice. He glanced over his shoulder to find her approaching, a book under her arm.

"How was your nap?" he asked with a smile.

"How long was I out?"

"Would you like that answer in hours or days?"

"Funny," she smirked. She glanced down at the map. "What are you doing?"

"Well, while you were sleeping, Gunn and Fred returned with news from Mistress Meerna. Apparently, she kept pulling a disappearing act on them, but before they lost her completely, she mentioned something about cosmic disturbances and rattled off a bunch of numbers." Wesley pointed at the notebook resting on the edge of the desk. "I'm thinking they may be map coordinates of some sort."

"Everything happens while I'm sleeping, huh?" she smiled as she made her way to the bookcase. Her back to Wesley, she reshelved the book as she added, "I'm just thrilled that you decided not to mark your territory on my desk."

It took a moment for Cordelia's words to connect. When they finally did, he raised an eyebrow at her. "You were awake."

"Yep," Cordelia replied as she turned back to him.

"The entire time?"

"Yep."

"So you heard… _everything_?"

"If you mean if I heard you and Faith get frisky," Cordelia frowned as she sat at her desk, "then yep."

"Oh," he choked out, running a hand slowly through his hair. "Well, I'm feeling very…."

"Guilty? Full of shame and horror at what you did?" Cordelia interrupted.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of being embarrassed about being overheard."

"_And_ full of shame and horror at what you did?" she prodded.

"Cordelia, why don't you just say what you're thinking?"

"Fine," she huffed. "How about this? You've lost your damn mind, Wesley. I mean, you wanted to forgive Faith for nearly killing you? Fine, I could kinda understand that. I could learn to deal. But then you start making googly eyes and contemplating the idea of _marking_ with her? Wesley, what the hell is that?"

Wesley shrugged. "It's me and Faith…."

"Have I slipped into the Twilight Zone because this is just wrong on so many levels?! I mean, you're sleeping with Faith. You're actually trying to have a relationship with a woman who tried to kill you! Who tried to kill your friends! Does that not sound insane to you?"

"Cordelia, I'll be frank with you," Wesley replied firmly. "I don't have to justify my relationship with Faith to you. That's my business, not yours."

"Well, I'm sorry, Wes, but it becomes my business when you almost have sex on _my _desk," Cordelia said, standing. "It becomes my business when I think my friend is making a horrible mistake."

"You don't know Faith like I know Faith."

Cordelia scoffed. "Well, that's _very_ obvious."

"Cordelia," Wesley sighed, "Just drop it. We never even had this conversation, okay?"

Cordelia studied him for a moment before sighing and sitting back in her chair. "Just tell me one thing, Wes. Is this real?"

"Real?" he asked, confused.

"Is what's going on with you guys _real_, or is it just sex?"

Wesley hesitated for a moment before giving a determined nod. "It's real, Cordy."

Cordelia nodded and sat back in her chair. "Why can't people from Sunnydale have normal relationships?" she frowned.

"Because we're _from _Sunnydale," he smirked.

In response, Cordelia gave him a hesitant smile. Her smile faded slightly as she said, "Just so you don't have to wonder anymore, Wesley, I _am_ trying."

Wesley nodded and returned the soft smile. "I know you are, Cordelia."


	17. Coming to Amends-- Chapter 5

Faith walked through the cemetery, tapping her stake against the palm of her hand.

This was not how she had wanted to spend her night. It wasn't that she hated patrolling because the opposite was true. Patrolling was what she did. It put her back in the field, among the violence, the energy, the inevitable rush of killing off a couple of vamps.

However, tonight, she had wanted other things, Wesley in particular. She had wanted to be with him, to feel his hands on her body. To feel him inside her. To feel the rush of being connected with him on a completely different level. 

Now that he was back at Angel Investigations, she needed to feel that connection more than ever….

Focus, Faith, she silently scolded herself. What kind of Slayer lets herself get distracted by thinking about sex with her Watcher?

As she shifted her focus back to the task at hand, she heard it.

The sounds of a fight.

Off to her right in the distance, four men fought.

She ran towards them, taking in everything as she moved in. 

A Slayer never enters a fight surprised, she told herself.

As she got closer, she could tell that it was three against one. The smaller man--no, the _boy_-- was holding his own well against the three much larger, much _deader _men.

"Hey, let's make this fight a little more fair, huh?" she smiled.

She jumped over a tombstone in front of her, using it to give her more height. On her way down, she kicked high, knocking down one of the vamps in the process. He regained himself much more quickly than she had been prepared for. As her feet made firm contact with the ground, he charged, knocking her down to the ground.

Instantly, she flipped him over and off top of her. Before he could regain himself, Faith flipped back onto her feet and staked him.

The boy continued to fight, not even giving a second glance in her direction. She watched him, amazed.

One vamp held him around the neck while the second came at him. The boy plowed his elbow into the skull of the vamp holding him, and Faith's Slayer hearing could actually hear the sound of the demon's bones crushing on impact. As that vamp fell to the ground in pain, the boy delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the other. The vamp staggered for a moment, and that moment was all the boy needed. He plunged the stake deep into the vamp's chest with a defiant smile.

The vamp transformed to dust in his hands.

The second vamp stumbled back to his feet and charged the boy from behind. Faith opened her mouth to call out to him, but even before her vocal cords could form the sound, the boy had plunged his stake deep into the vampire's chest. His eyes never even left Faith as he did so.

Faith couldn't help but smile. This kid was amazing, even if he didn't look like much. He resembled one of the homeless kids that were numerous in the city, and it definitely looked like he had seen better days. His clothes were tattered and torn. His face was smudged with dirt, and at the moment, a cut above his right eye was slowly dripping down the side of his face. At his hip, hung a sheathed knife.

"Smooth moves, kid," she praised. "Who taught you to fight like that?"

"Instinct," the boy proclaimed. "Instinct is the hunter's best trainer."

Faith studied him for a moment, a slight smirk on her face. "I'm just gonna take a wild guess and say you're not a local."

The boy simply looked at her. 

"Where are your folks?"

He wiped his dusty stake on his tattered shirt, silent.

"You got folks? You know, people who give you money and order you around? Parents?"

"My father is dead," he stated firmly.

Faith hesitated, taken aback by his admission. She began to think about herself at his age, right after her own mother's death. Alone. Angry. Full of rage and violence.

"And _your _father?" the boy asked.

Faith shrugged. "Dead, alive. Who cares?"

The boy raised an eyebrow at her. "You are very strange."

"You're one to talk, pal." Faith sighed. "Look, kid, you better get home before you get into more trouble out here. It's not safe, you know."

"I'm no child," the boy replied, the defiance deep in his eyes. "I am a hunter."

"Well, _hunter_, it's past your bedtime, ain't it? Go home."

"I can't do that."

"And why not?"

"Father sent me on a mission. It was his last wish. I must complete his mission. He said that I must find the man who spawned me."

Faith raised a curious eyebrow. "Buddy, you're definitely not going to find him out here." She rolled her eyes and turned, walking away. "Go home," she called over her shoulder.

"But Father said to follow it," the boy yelled out to her. "He said that the portal would lead me to him…."

Faith stopped in her tracks. She hesitated before turning back to the boy. "What did you just say?"

"He said it would bring me to the right place," he replied matter-a-factly. He approached Faith as he continued, "That it would lead me to the man that spawned me."

Faith felt her heart stop in her chest. "Is your name Connor?"

The boy shook his head. "I am Steven."

"Did your Father tell you the name of the guy you're supposed to be tracking?"

The boy hesitated, looking Faith over. His distrust of her was etched across his face. He watched her a moment longer before the distrust began to melt away. "Angel, I believe. That is the man I was meant to find."

Faith ran her hands through her hair, her eyes wide in amazement. "Holy shit!"

"I have frightened you?" he asked innocently.

"No, but you have to come with me now," she replied, reaching out for his arm.

Steven snatched his arm away from her grasp. "No."

"Look, do you want to find Angel or not?"

"You know of him?"

"I _know_ him."

The boy's eyes glimmered. "Then you must take me to him."

"I will, but I need you to see someone else first."

The glimmer faded. Instantly, his hand grasped the knife at his side and pulled it. Just as quickly, Faith was on him. She twirled his knife arm, pinning it behind his back. Her free hand held tightly to Steven's throat. He struggled against her for a moment until her grip on his neck only tightened.

"Look, kid, I don't want to hurt you, okay? I'll take you to Angel, but there's someone just a little more important who has to see you first. You gotta trust me."

"I trust no one but myself."

Faith released him, spinning him away from her. Steven regained himself quickly, his knife up and ready.

"Then we have something else in common," Faith replied. She sighed, crossing her arms. "So, as one hunter to another, you can trust me."

Steven stared at her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. Slowly, he placed his knife back into its sheath. He mimicked her stance, crossing his arms over his chest.

"As a hunter, you have earned my trust."

Faith smiled in response.


	18. Coming to Amends Chapter 6

"Wes! Wesley."

Wesley opened his eyes slightly, moaning. Faith knelt at his bedside, wide awake and alert. He looked at her for a moment before yawning. "Faith, what time is it?"

"2 am," she replied quickly. "Look, that doesn't matter now…."

"2 am?" he repeated groggily. His eyes finally opened completely. "You're just now getting back from patrolling?" He sat up quickly and reached out, touching her face gently. "Is everything okay? Are you hurt?"

"Do I look hurt?" she smirked. She took his hand as she stood. "I need to show you something."

"Now?"

"It's definitely not something that can wait." She tugged at his arm gently, and he finally kicked back the covers.

"This isn't like some new sex game of yours, is it?" he yawned, scratching his bare chest absentmindedly.

Faith rolled her eyes at him as he tugged at the waist of his boxers with his free hand. "You wish." 

"Faith, what is going on?" he asked as she continued to pull him down the hallway and towards the kitchen.

"This," she stated simply when they reached the doorway. 

Sitting at the kitchen table was a young boy, no older than fifteen or so. His face was smudged with dirt, and his shirt was filthy and shredded in places. His shaggy mop of brown hair stood out wildly, tousled and tangled. 

At the moment, he was eating hungrily from what appeared to be a bowl of Lucky Charms.

The boy paid them no heed as he continued to eat from his bowl. Wesley turned to Faith as he asked, "And may I ask who this boy is?"

"Steven," she replied, releasing his hand. She waited a moment before adding, "But you might know him as Connor."

Wesley's eyes widened at her words. "Faith, what are you saying?"

"I don't know how to explain it, Wes. I mean, that's your area, but this kid is Connor."

"Faith, it's only been a few months since Connor's disappearance. This boy isn't Connor…." He paused as he glanced back at the boy. "Unless he had one hell of a growth spurt."

"I know it sounds insane, Wes, but I was out patrolling when I came across him. He said that he was sent on a mission by his father. A mission to find his real dad. I kinda blew him off until he said something about his dad telling him to follow the portal, that the portal would lead him to his _real _dad."

Wesley's heart fluttered. He took Faith's hand and gripped it closely to his chest. "You're sure, Faith?"

She simply nodded.

Wesley took a deep breath to keep from fainting.

He had spent many nights thinking about Connor's return, thinking about being the one to return the child safely to his friends. However, _this _had never crossed his mind. How the innocent, trusting infant had turned into a teenager within a span of months he couldn't comprehend at the moment. 

If this child truly was Connor, the significance of the event was nearly indescribable. Angel would have his child back, the child he never thought he would have in the first place. The family would be complete again, no single piece of the unit would be missing. And Wesley would be a step closer to redemption….

"I need…. I need to get dressed," he stammered as Faith's hand slipped from his own. "Don't let him out of your sight," Wesley ordered quietly as he started back towards the bedroom.

"I can guarantee you that," she smirked. Her smirk softened as she added, "He's got nowhere else to go."

Wesley nodded and disappeared into his room.

Faith sighed and entered the kitchen. Steven finally looked up at her, finishing off his cereal with a eager slurp. She smiled slightly as she walked by him and made her way to the stove. She removed the tea kettle from the cabinet above the electric range and filled it with water.

"You drink tea?" she asked as she sat the kettle on the front burner.

"No," the boy stated from over her shoulder.

The water boiling slowly, Faith returned to the kitchen table and sat down across from him. He watched her every move like a caged animal, tracking her. He watched her for any sudden change in demeanor, and she did the same to him-- preparing herself for the moment he acted. If he wanted to lash out, he would do it at the perfect moment, and he would execute it quickly, and she would be ready for him.

Two hunters, she thought grimly.

"So you been fighting vamps long?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

Steven shrugged. "Long enough. You?"

Faith grinned. "Since I was your age. Kinda fun once you get into it."

Steven gave her a half-smile in response.

"But you keep putting yourself against odds like you had tonight, and fun's gonna be the last of your concerns," she warned, her grin fading.

Steven absently stirred the milk in his bowl. "I've handled worse odds. I didn't need your help tonight."

"I'm sure you didn't, but next time, maybe you won't be so lucky," she shrugged.

The tea kettle whistled as Steven angrily dropped his spoon into his bowl. Faith moved towards the stove to remove the kettle from the heat as he asked, "When am I going to see Angel? You promised me. If you lied to me…." he threatened.

Instinctively, Faith turned to face him. She opened her mouth to respond, but Wesley's voice spoke up from the doorway.

"Faith may be many things, but she's rarely a liar," he said.

Faith took note of Wesley's calm demeanor. In that little time he had spent slipping on a T-shirt and slacks, he had somehow composed himself. She smiled at him and turned back to the tea kettle.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, agitated.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I know your father, _both_ of them," he replied as he approached. He offered his hand for the boy to shake, but Steven looked down at the hand cautiously and back up at Wesley. Wesley cleared his throat and pulled his hand back. "Apparently, Holtz didn't teach you about common greetings."

"You will take me to Angel?" the boy asked.

Wesley sat down across from him, nodding. "That was the deal Faith made with you, right?"

The boy squinted his eyes at Wesley, studying him. "Yes."

"Then, that's what I will do. It would mean more to me than you could ever realize to take you to see Angel." Wesley leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together. "But I just need to ask you some questions first. Would that be okay?"

Steven shrugged. "Yeah."

"How long have you been here?"

Steven picked up his spoon and began to stir his bowl of warm milk again. "Five days or so. I'm not sure."

"And you've gotten that good at killing vamps in five days?" Faith asked as she handed Wesley one of the mugs of warm tea she held. He smiled appreciatively at her as she sat down beside him.

"I have always been a hunter," he replied, glancing at Faith. "I have killed many things at home."

"Practice makes perfect, I guess," Faith scoffed before taking a sip from her mug.

"How did you get here, Connor?" Wesley asked.

Steven's eyes turned to him instantly. "My name is Steven," he frowned.

Wesley nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry. Steven, how did you get here?"

"A portal opened one day, and I followed it," he stated matter-a-factly. Without missing a beat, he turned to Faith and asked, "Do you have any more of this colored crunchy stuff?"

Wesley turned to Faith, confused, as she raised an eyebrow at the boy. With a shrug, she stood and retrieved the box of Lucky Charms from the cabinet. She opened the refrigerator with her free hand and grabbed the half-gallon of skim milk. Knocking the refrigerator door closed with her hip, she returned to the table, placing the items in front of Steven. He smiled slightly and began to fix himself another bowl as Faith sat back down.

Wesley turned to her and she shrugged. "Kid's got taste," she smirked.

Wesley's gaze returned to Steven. "Did you know where the portal would take you?"

"No," the boy replied through a mouthful of cereal.

"So you were just walking around one day," Faith intervened, "on your way back home from killing something, and you saw a portal and thought, 'Hey, I wonder where that leads?'"

"Father had been looking for a portal for years, but he could never find one. When I told him about it, he said that it was my chance to get out of Quartoth."

"Why didn't he come with you?" Wesley asked, a sense of suspicion creeping up on him.

"Because he was dying," Steven replied quietly. He shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth as he dropped his eyes from Wesley's gaze.

Serves the bastard right, Wesley bitterly thought.

"So he told you to go into the portal, to follow it. What did he want you to find?"

"Angel."

"Why?"

Steven looked back up at Wesley as he answered, "Because he was my first father, my true father."

"But _why_?" Wesley prodded.

Steven simply stared at him in response.

Sensing his agitation, Faith grabbed Wesley's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Can I talk to you?" she asked as she pulled him from the kitchen.

Once they were alone in the front room, she asked, "Wes, what's the deal? The kid told you why."

"Faith," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You don't understand what having Connor back would mean to me, to everyone…."

"Been there, done that, Wes," she frowned. "I understand more than you give me credit for."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just…. I can't escape this nagging sense of…."

"Of what?"

"It doesn't seem odd to you? That this boy just shows up literally out of thin air? That you just happen to stumble across him while you're patrolling? The same boy that mere months ago was an infant in my arms?"

"Wes," Faith smiled gently and placed a hand on his cheek. "_I'm_ supposed to be the cynic in this relationship."

Wesley smiled despite himself.

Faith sighed and took his hand in her own. "Look, listen up, pal, because you will never _ever_ hear me say this again. You gotta accept this for what it is. It's fate. It's a damn miracle. Yeah, it's unexplained and it's sudden, but aren't they all?"

"I think I liked you better as the cynic," he smirked.

"Yeah, me too," she grinned. "Don't go expecting this puppy-dogs-and-rainbows crap all the time."

Wesley nodded and after a moment of silence between them, he asked, "You're not in the least curious as to why he's back?"

"No, I'm curious," she admitted. "I'm _very_ curious, and yeah, I'm even a _little_ suspicious, but I'm looking at the big picture here, Wes."

"The big picture being?"

"The kid is _back_. Who knows how, who knows why, but he's back. You guys don't have to search for the answers anymore because the _answer _is sitting in our kitchen about to OD on Lucky Charms."

"You know," he sighed. "I hate it when you're right."

"Which is why it brings me so much joy," she smirked. Her eyes shifted over his shoulder as she added, "We have a visitor."

Wesley turned to see Connor in the doorway to the front room, watching them. "Con… Steven?" he asked.

"You kept asking me why," the boy said. He reached into the pocket of his slacks and removed a crumpled and dirty envelope. He approached them and handed the envelope to Wesley. "I'm supposed to give this to Angel. It's from my Father."

"Then why are you giving it to me?" Wesley asked as he turned the envelope over in his hands.

Steven shrugged innocently. "You wanted to know why, didn't you?"

With that, he returned to the kitchen. Wesley looked up at Faith, who looked back at him expectantly.

"Well?" she asked. "You plan on opening it sometime today?"

Wesley held her eyes for a moment before looking down at the disheveled envelope in his hands. The envelope that held the answer to his question. 

Steven's words echoed in his head as he stared at the envelope--

__

You wanted to know why, didn't you?


	19. Coming to Amends Chapter 7

Author's Note: There are not enough words to thank you guys for the feedback!!! You all rock!

**********

It was a little after eight in the morning when they entered the hotel. 

Somehow, Faith had convinced Connor to rest for a while before they headed out to see Angel. Wesley had asked the same of the boy, and his request had been denied. It didn't shock Wesley that when Faith had asked a mere moments later, the boy had agreed. Connor respected Faith as a fellow fighter, a _hunter_ he had heard Faith say. Wesley, on the other hand, was nothing to the boy. Nothing but a way to get into contact with Angel. And that bothered Wesley more than he felt comfortable with.

What right did he have to feel slighted by the boy's indifference to him? 

Besides, this boy was not Connor. Steven. He had declared it firmly when Wesley had unconsciously called him by his true name. Steven, not Connor. A boy raised in a hell dimension. A boy raised by the only father he had ever known and loved. A boy filled with anger and fear. Steven, not Connor….

"Wesley?" Cordelia asked as she approached them. "Who's the kid?"

Wesley looked to his far right where Connor stood beside Faith. Dressed in one of Wesley's spare T-shirts and pair of slacks that seemed to be one size too big, the boy portrayed a sense of innocence that had not been so evident the night before in his kitchen. Hunter or not, he was just a child. Under the dirt and blood, he was still Connor. He was still….

"Steven," Wesley said, turning his gaze back to Cordelia. "He's here to see Angel."

Cordelia frowned slightly. "Oh, I don't think that's a good idea, Wes. Not really in a visitor mood, you know."

"He's not really a visitor."

"Okay, I'm confused."

"Can we talk in the office?"

Before Cordelia could answer, Gunn and Fred strolled into the hotel, talking and laughing. 

"We come bearing doughnuts," Fred announced with a perky smile and motioned to Gunn, who carried the box of pastries. She quickly took notice of their visitor. "Hi."

Connor simply shifted his weight uncomfortably and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of the slacks.

"Not much of a talker," Faith replied for him.

"I suppose we should all go into the office," Wesley said as he looked from Gunn and Fred back to Cordelia.

"What's going on?" Gunn asked, the suspicion etched across his face.

"Just a family meeting," Cordelia declared and started towards the office.

Wesley gave Faith a quick smile before starting after Cordelia.

"Me and Steven'll take care of these for ya," Faith smirked as she retrieved the box from Gunn's hands. "No need for us at the meeting."

Gunn began to protest, but Fred quieted him by taking his hand and dragging him towards the office.

Faith turned to Connor with a endearing smile. "Doughnut?" she asked as she flipped the lid of the box open.

Connor hesitated a moment before giving her a slight smile. He retrieved a glazed doughnut from the box as Faith nodded in approval.

**********

Wesley closed the office door and sighed. 

Cordelia stood at the edge of Angel's desk as Fred sat in the client chair before it. Gunn stood in the corner, leaning against the file cabinet.

"Wes, what's going on?" Cordelia finally asked.

"I've been asking myself that very question since two this morning," he said, glancing out the office door.

He watched as Faith and Connor sat on the settee, smiling and enjoying their doughnuts. Neither one appeared to be talking much, but they both seemed comfortable with the amount of silence between them.

"What are you talking about?" Gunn asked, the annoyance evident in his voice.

"I don't even know where to start," Wesley replied, running a hand through his hair. "Last night, Faith came across Steven while she was patrolling. It seems that he was sent here to find Angel."

"Why would he need to see Angel?" Fred asked.

"Because of this," Wesley replied. He reached into his slacks pocket and removed the letter Connor had given him the night before. He handed the letter to Cordelia, and she took it from him, her eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Because of a letter?" Gunn asked.

"Because of who wrote the letter," Wesley replied.

Fred looked at Gunn before turning to Wesley, her brow furrowed gently. "Well, who wrote the letter?"

"Oh my God," Cordelia gasped, her hand instantly moving to cover her mouth. She looked up at Wesley, eyes wide and near tears. "Wesley. Wesley, are you sure?"

Wesley simply nodded.

"Who wrote the letter?" Fred asked, getting to her feet in order to read over Cordelia's shoulder.

"Steven's father," Wesley explained.

"So what?" Gunn replied. "Who's his dad?"

"Holtz," Fred said quietly, looking towards Gunn in disbelief.

"But… but that would mean that…." Gunn began as he quickly made his way over to them to see the letter for himself.

"That Steven is Connor," Cordelia smiled.

Wesley nodded and smiled softly at her.

"That's not possible," Gunn argued as he glanced over Cordelia's other shoulder at the letter. "I don't believe it." He took a step away from the women and crossed his arms, defiantly. "You're trying to tell me that that bag of hormones out there is Connor? Try again, Wes, because I ain't buying it."

"Neither did I, but it's all there in the letter," Wesley countered. "Apparently, Quartoth aged Connor and Holtz as well. When Holtz wrote this, it seemed that he knew that his time was up, that his mind was either on the verge of going senile or his body was on the verge of giving up. According to Connor, Holtz had been looking for a portal back to our dimension for years. When Connor had announced that he had found one, Holtz knew that it was the boy's only chance…."

"So why send him back here? Why send the kid back to the man he stole him from in the first place?"

"Because he loved him," Fred replied. Gunn turned to her, confused, as she expanded her explanation, "Connor… Steven… _whoever_ was Holtz's son. Holtz knew that the kid had no chance in Quartoth so he chose what he thought was the lesser of two evils. He may have been completely psychotic, but deep down, he was a father who loved his son."

Gunn frowned and Fred shrugged apologetically. "What?!" she said to his disapproving look. "I'm not sayin' I approve of what he did to Angel, but you _did _ask."

Cordelia folded up the letter and held it tightly in her hands. "So Holtz is dead?" she asked Wesley.

He simply nodded.

"And Connor's back?"

"Yes."

"For good?"

"For good, Cordelia."

Her smile brightened as she replied, "I need to tell Angel…."

"Actually," Wesley replied, gently taking hold of her arm. "I think I need to tell him."

"Why?" Gunn grumbled. "So he'll forgive your sorry ass for stealing his kid in the first place?"

"No," Wesley replied firmly as he looked towards Gunn. "Because this is something that _I_ need to do."

"Yeah," Cordelia agreed. She handed the letter over to Wesley with a faint smile as she said, "Go tell him that his son is back."

Wesley returned the smile before stepping out of the office.

"Can this place get any weirder?" Fred asked as soon as Wesley was gone.

Cordelia laughed quietly. "Fred, I've been saying that since high school."

"So what do we do now?" Gunn asked.

"We wait. We'll let Wesley and Angel talk. We'll let Angel get to see Connor…."

"And then?" Fred asked.

"_Then_ we'll be one step closer to what we were. A family," Cordelia smiled, and Fred smiled back.

**********

"So then, I took this metal pole and started beating the sh--"

Faith cut her story short as Wesley approached them. "Wes, what's the verdict?"

"Will when I see Angel?" Connor asked.

Wesley stopped at the settee for only a moment. "I'm on my way to tell him right now."

"Good luck, Wes," Faith smiled. He smiled back and started towards the basement again.

When he had disappeared down the corridor towards the basement door, Faith turned back to Connor. "Where was I again?"

Connor reached for his third doughnut as he eagerly replied, "You had just grabbed the pole."

"Oh yeah, thanks," Faith grinned and started her tale again.


	20. Coming to Amends Chapter 8

**********

Wesley hesitated at the basement door, his fingers lightly trailing over the doorknob.

He had dreamed many nights about this moment, about being able to tell Angel that his son had been returned. He had thinking about this moment from the very night Connor had been taken from his arms, but now, he found himself hesitating.

In his dreams, it had been simple. Declaring that Connor had returned. Seeing the sense of overwhelming joy wash over his former friend's face. Feeling like he had finally found the end of his path to redemption. So easy in his dreams….

Much easier than he knew it was about to be.

Wesley finally opened the door, readying himself. He walked slowly, cautiously, down the basement stairs, listening to the sound of Angel pummeling his punching bag. When he reached the foot of the stairs, he opened his mouth to speak, but Angel cut him short.

His back still to Wesley, Angel growled, "You have some nerve showing up here, Pryce."

Wesley grimaced at the name. So bitter. So impersonal.

"Yes, I realize that I'm the last person you want to see…."

Angel turned to him, frowning. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stood tall. "You're not even the last person."

Wesley nodded slightly. "I deserve that."

"You deserve a lot more."

"I have some information that I thought you would like to have," Wesley replied as he looked down at the envelope in his hands and then back up at Angel.

"Information?"

"Last night, Faith came across a young boy while she was out patrolling. He had a message for you from his father." 

Wesley took a cautious step towards him, and Angel ripped the letter from his hands. He opened the letter and began to read as Wesley continued.

"Apparently, when you attempted your spell, you _did_ open a portal to Quartoth. Just not where you thought it would be. He says he's been here for five days now. Give or take; he's not too sure. But he's been here trying to find you."

Angel looked up from the letter and locked eyes with Wesley. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Wesley shook his head in response.

Before Wesley could defend himself, Angel was on him. He grasped Wesley's collar firmly in his free hand, jerking Wesley to his face as he growled, "If this is a joke, I will not hesitate to rip your spine from your body, do you hear me?"

"Quite clearly," Wesley choked out, "But I promise you that it's not. Steven… _Connor_ is upstairs as we speak, waiting to see you."

Angel held Wesley for a moment before tossing him carelessly to the side. Wesley fell hard to the basement floor, groaning. His adrenaline pumping, he instantly jumped back to his feet, preparing for Angel to lunge at him and make his threat reality.

But Angel simply looked at him once more and started up the basement stairs.

Much easier in my dreams, Wesley thought to himself.

**********

If he was lying, he was a dead man. He would rip out Wesley's jugular right there in the lobby, and no one-- Fred, Gunn, Faith, Cordy, no one-- would be able to stop him this time. The man would be dead.

Angel's thoughts faded away as he heard voices in the lobby. One was obviously Faith, telling a tale of a violent encounter she had had with a vampire. The other, the one asking for more details, was new. A young boy. His young boy?

Angel stepped into the lobby, and Faith, who sat facing in Angel's direction, instantly stopped her tale. The boy turned, following her eyes. His smile slowly slipped away as he locked eyes with Angel.

Faith stood and gently grabbed the collar of Connor's T-shirt, pulling him to his feet.

"That's Angel," Angel heard her whisper in the boy's ear. The boy simply nodded in acknowledgement.

So focused on the boy, Angel barely noticed as Wesley came out from behind him. He joined Faith and the boy as he explained, "Angel, this is Connor…."

"Steven," the boy corrected, less angry than before.

Wesley smiled. "Yes, Steven."

Angel approached them, slowly, his mind reeling. 

This was insane. Unbelievable. His son had been an infant merely a few months ago, but now… Now, he was much _much_ older. And yet, Angel couldn't fight the feeling that this was right. That this boy was his son. He could recognize his son anywhere. The eyes. The facial features. The smell. Connor….

Connor had been returned.

"We'll just leave you two alone," Wesley said, gently grabbing Faith's hand and pulling her towards the office.

Alone, the two men shifted uncomfortably. Neither knowing what to say.

Finally, Connor spoke. "So you're my father?"

"Yeah," Angel choked out, not sure he was ready for this.

"I know what you really are," the boy frowned.

Angel returned the frown. "What am I?"

"A demon. I killed three of your kind last night…."

Angel simply nodded, unable to form a sentence that would come out intelligent or comprehendible.

"But you're also different. Father said you had a soul, that you kill your own kind and help people."

"He did?" Angel asked, shocked by what appeared to be kind words from Holtz. "What else did he tell you?"

"That that wasn't always the case. That you killed his first family. That you still have evil beneath your soul."

"He was right," Angel admitted quietly as he glanced towards Wesley, who stood in the office with the others. "I do." He turned back to Connor as he asked, "Why did Holtz tell you to find me?"

"Because he knew you would give me a home…."

"But he didn't trust me," Angel countered, holding up the letter.

"Neither do I," Connor shrugged, "but I'm still here."

"I'll earn your trust one day."

Connor looked at him, raising a suspicious eyebrow. 

"And even if _I_ don't, I can promise you that all those people in that office will."

"Father told me not to trust you, to trust any of your kind. He told me to listen to my instinct because it would keep me alive. That if my instinct ever tells me to kill you, I should."

Angel swallowed hard at those words. Hearing the words from Holtz was one thing. Hearing it from his own flesh and blood struck a heart-wrenching chord within him.

"And what is your instinct telling you now?" he asked, curious.

The boy shrugged. "To trust myself."

Angel nodded. "Good advice. Welcome back, Connor," he added with a gentle smile.

Connor opened his mouth to correct him but stopped short. "Thank you," he said.

**********

"Thanks. Keep the change," Fred said to the delivery guy as she retrieved the two large pizzas from his hands. She brought the pizzas over to the hotel counter, declaring, "Who wants pizza?"

The entire gang was gathered in the lobby, talking and trying to learn more about Connor and where he had been. As they all made their way to the counter, Angel grabbed Wesley's arm and pulled him to the side of the lobby.

"I will never forgive you," Angel frowned. "For as long as I am on this earth, I will never trust you again."

"I… I understand."

"You stole my son, and there's nothing that you can ever do to make that up to me. And now that I have him back, if I lose him again because of you, I will not hesitate to kill you this time."

Wesley remained silent.

"But… thank you, Wesley."

Before Wesley could reply, Angel had already made his way to the counter to be with his son.

Faith, carrying two slices of pizza on a paper plate, walked up to Wesley, tossing a concerned glance over her shoulder at Angel.

"Wes?" she asked as she stood next to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What was that all about?"

"Just Angel thanking me…. _And _threatening my life again. But I'll take it however it comes."

Faith smiled at him as she handed him a slice of pizza. "What can ya say, it's his style."

Wesley nodded, smiling.

"So, do you want to stick around here or what? We could go home, watch "The Matrix", and I could do my infamous Keanu Reeves impression?" Faith grinned. "I'm sure they won't miss us here."

Wesley opened his mouth to agree, but Cordelia called out from the counter, "Guys, you better get over here and get more pizza before Connor decides to eat it all!"

Faith looked at Wesley, amazed, and he could only return the look of disbelief with a quiet laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned," she smirked.

Wesley took her hand in his own as he smiled, "Well, looks like we _are_ home, Faith."

"Can I still do my Keanu Reeves impersonation?" she grinned.

Wesley gently kissed her. He pulled away, and Faith smiled up at him. "Over my dead body, Faith."

"I can arrange that, you know."

"I know," Wesley laughed as he and Faith joined the others at the hotel counter.

~END~


End file.
